Left for Dead: 54th Hunger Games
by Team Renly
Summary: It's the 54th Hunger Games. 24 Tributes. 1 Arena. 1 Victor, but is winning really a victory at all? The Gamemakers are waiting.
1. 54th Hunger Games Submission Form

**Welcome to the 54****th**** Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favour.**

Haymitch Abernathy was slouched over the couch in his house in the Victor's Village. He didn't do much else in the few days before the Reapings. It was too horrible to go out into the village and look at all the kids running around or going to school while he just watched and thought; 'it could be you, or you, or you.' Wondering who he'd be sending to their deaths this year.

He felt like he'd been doing it forever; sitting and listening to the mayor's droning about the value of the Games and then sending kids gifts while he watched them die in glorious High Definition. Really it had only been… what, four years? Three even? The pressure of having to try setting a kid up for slaughter, not just physically but emotionally, drained a person more than anything else Haymitch had ever done. Watching them get so far then be stabbed in the back by their allies or pushed off cliffs by mutts tearing and biting into their flesh. Having to see every instant of their gruesome deaths as the cameras zoomed in on their faces as they cry for help.

There was a bottle on the table delivered fresh from the Capitol. Haymitch's eyes focused on the bottle, wondering whether or not to drink the inebriating alcohol that the bottle contained. It would be so… easy to be just another hopeless mentor akin to the morphling addicts and drug users who just sat empty-eyed, waiting for the Games to be over for another year.

So easy, and yet it was exactly what the Capitol wanted. To destroy the problem victor from within. Destroy him with drink while still forcing him to kill children; every year so far he'd been given suspiciously good quality tributes and watched them climb so high only to watch them fall.

He realised he was sitting up, about to reach for the drink when he forced himself to lie back down.

Only two days until Reapings.

Two days and he wouldn't have the energy to worry about drinking.

Maybe he'd get tributes who he hated that would at least die quickly. It was an awful thing to think but it would let him get home to be free… ish for another year.

Free… hah.


	2. The Head Trainer Tribute List

The head trainer for the 54th Hunger Games looked reluctantly over the list of tributes for this year. He hated training kids to their doom but he had nowhere else to go.

Tyler Vosren had been a trainer of the Hunger Games for only 15 years. Compared to some of the other trainers he was just a pup but he was still old enough to be sick of the Games and his job.

When he was younger he'd thought about taking a job in one of the prep teams or as an escort; but he'd always been fascinated by the training instead. He liked the idea of learning to fight without having to live in the Districts.

Finally, when he was 19, he was accepted onto the training team for the 39th Hunger Games. He taught the sword fighting station and it was invariably popular every year no matter what the arena would turn out to be.

The year he turned 20 he was still new to training but the last year had gone well. Two of the tributes he'd trained every day ended up in an epic sword fight on top of a cliff dropping off onto a rocky shore. They'd countered each other blow for blow until finally one of them used a technique he'd taught them; they feinted an attack before head butting their opponent. Normally it just disoriented their opponent but on the edge of the cliff it slammed them over the edge onto the rocks.

He'd been celebrated that year, he was invited to all of the best parties and had a massive pay rise.

At 20 years old and attractive he'd let it get to his head.

He was cocky for the next year's Games and over confident of his training.

Along came Teryl Green, District 8's golden girl. She was fascinated by his station and even more so with him. She spent all of her training at his station, practising and practising over and over again. He flirted back and enjoyed her company while it lasted. Finally, on the last day, she slashed him across the face and he stabbed her in the hand.

She hated him for it.

While he'd been enjoying her attention he'd let his ego get too big for him so when she beat him he stabbed her back. The surgeons fixed her hand but the Head Gamemaker didn't let them fix his face.

But that wasn't the only damage done.

He tried to visit her but she slammed the door in his face. He sponsored her, he did everything he could to help her.

Finally, he killed her.

Not directly, he didn't kill her through any physical means. She was a brilliant fighter and she picked off around half a dozen other tributes. The problem was, when it became really important, she'd spent all her time at the sword fighting station.

She tried a berry at random but before she ate it she glared at the camera and said, 'F*** you Tyler.'

It wasn't poisonous but she only ate that type of berry from then on.

By the last few days she was delirious with hunger and possibly some type of slow acting poison in the berries.

Finally she was fighting a boy from District 2 with a broadsword. She was almost totally mad by now, obsessed with killing and violence. It made Tyler want to go into the arena himself, even if it meant killing her, to free the trapped part of her that was still sane, crying to be released from her insane prison.

The fight was once again impressive but Tyler felt no pride. They fought and tackled each other to the ground. Teryl was about to deal the killing blow when her hand spasmed right where he'd stabbed her.

The District 2 boy stabbed her in the throat and went on to win the Games.

Tyler knew that it must have been on the part of the Gamemakers if they repaired her hand only to have it screw up at _exactly _the wrong time.

He knew it but part of him didn't believe it and that part was enough.

They didn't demote him or dock his pay. They just left him with the scar and the memory, brought back every time he saw the District 2 victor. Tyler Vosren was broken and they had won but he still blamed himself.

The Gamemakers had seen what he didn't see himself; that he had fallen for her.

And they won.

**Tribute List:**

**District 1 Male: **Felix Hailstorm**  
><strong>

**District 1 Female:** Aglaeca Grenier

**District 2 Male:** Calvin Emil

**District 2 Female:** Fleur Valentine Beahr

**District 3 Male: **Lucas Wre**  
><strong>

**District 3 Female: **Florence "Flo" Wren

**District 4 Male: **Felix Haas

**District 4 Female: **Summer Ciel**  
><strong>

**District 5 Male: **Apollo Crete**  
><strong>

**District 5 Female: **Josephine "Joey" Cox**  
><strong>

**District 6 Male:** Wolfgang Ardenne

**District 6 Female: **Taryn Byers**  
><strong>

**District 7 Male: **Sean Dorsin**  
><strong>

**District 7 Female: **Kaya Lambert**  
><strong>

**District 8 Male: ** Blaze Valentine****  
><strong>**

**District 8 Female:** Piper Lyonz**  
><strong>

**District 9 Male: **Ahab Bronson**  
><strong>

**District 9 Female: **Kristy Greene**  
><strong>

**District 10 Male: **Matthew "Matt" Hanson**  
><strong>

**District 10 Female: **Scarlett Lavington**  
><strong>

**District 11 Male: **Denver Radisson**  
><strong>

**District 11 Female: **Millie Sun Mallard**  
><strong>

**District 12 Male:** Wesley "Wes" Faulkner**  
><strong>

**District 12 Female: **Ivy Laurel

**WolfRida.**


	3. D1: Careers to the Last

**Roy, where did you send your tribute in?  
><strong>

**Warning: There is occasional swearing in this SYOT. Nothing worse than the s word but this is a warning all the same. It's most notable in the Careers. In fact I think it's only in the Careers and possibly only once.**

**Any repetition is intentional.**

**District 1: Felix Hailstorm**

It's so _boring_ in District 1 before Reaping Day. We're not allowed to train and everywhere is closed, waiting to see who'll be the next District 1 victor. The other Districts probably whine about how cocky we are; but it's true. We're the best.

And I'm going to be the winner this year.

I don't give a shit what anyone else thinks; 'It's just Felix,' 'Hey, you're Antonius' brother aren't you?' or even worse, 'Isn't that Maximus' little brother? Maximus is gonna be the next victor for sure, he's the best.'

Always in my family's shadow.

I'm always someone's brother or my father's son. I'm never Felix. I'm always just Maximus' brother.

I don't try to make a name for myself. I don't need to- yet.

All I need is the Games. I have to win the Games and it'll be Maximus who's in my shadow. I have to do it this year- there's no other option. If I let Maximus volunteer first I'll still be his brother. It doesn't matter that he's a year older than me, a year better trained than me. If I don't get to the Capitol until next year I'll still be Maximus' little brother.

Just imagine the Capitol.

"Hey, look! It's the little brother of the victor from last year, Maximus!"

"How do you feel following your brother's footsteps?"

"Is it tough trying to live up to your brothers?"

"Do you think you'll be able to match your brother's achievements?"

I shake my head, trying to clear the thoughts. There is no other option. I'm going into the Games this year and Maximus is staying behind. He'll be the one sitting at home watching me get the glory. It's not going to be any other way.

I will not fall to him.

I will not fall to anyone.

Never.

**District 1: Aglaeca Grenier**

"Dammit!"

Not now, why can't I hit the freaking target on the most important day of my life? The only time I'll _ever _need to practice again and I can't get it right.

I start throwing the knives wildly; I don't care where they land. I just want to hit something. Anything. The only thing I could ever want to hit more is a District 4 tribute. One of those smarmy little gits that call themselves a part of the Careers.

They killed my _sister_.

Now I'm going to kill _them_.

I don't care if mother dearest doesn't think I'm 'ready.'

She's been training me every second of every freaking day of my miserable life since I was four. Who cares about friends, about having a life?

Clearly not them so they can't say when I'm not ready.

I will volunteer this year and I will kill those District 4 sons of bitches with my own hands. I don't even care that much about winning. Screw my parents, I don't care about the money, I'm in it for the revenge.

Even if I did win, why would I ever give any of it to them? They've turned me into this revenge-obsessed machine. It's their own damn faults of they don't reap the rewards.

The final knife slams home into the bullseye, right when I'm at my most furious and that only makes me more pissed off. I can't hit a single freaking bullseye when I want to and then finally I do when I'm chucking them randomly just to feel the satisfaction of the slamming I know they make upstairs.

Of course this convinces mother dearest to come down the stairs and look at my pathetic performance.

"This isn't good enough Aglaeca, honestly, it's terrible. How are you ever going to win with a throwing arm like that," she shakes her head angrily.

"Quite frankly, _mother_, I don't give a damn what you think," I reply venomously, "I'd even go so far as to say I couldn't care less about anything that comes out of your mouth if I tried."

"You will not come upstairs until you get every one of those bullseyes young lady!" she screeches, turning red, pushing out the girth of fat she carries. As if she would ever be able to hit even one of those targets, let alone the centre.

"Fine. You want to see me hit those bullseyes? Just you watch."

As the anger boils up inside me I rip the knives out of the wall, not giving a donkey's arse about the gouges they leave in the wall.

Bullseye, bullseye, bullseye, bullseye, bullseye… I hit every target I throw at except the last one. Because I don't aim for the target; I aim for my mother's podgy little head.

I even manage to twist the knife so that the flat side skims over her hair before slamming into the wall behind her.

As soon as she recovers she screeches, "NO LUNCH AND NO DINNER. YOU ARE GROUNDED!"

Ha, as though I was ever anything else.

Besides, mother dearest, tonight I dine in the Capitol.

**Felix:**

"Yo, Felix!" Gaius yells as he and Pontius jog to catch up with me walking towards the main square. At least they remember my name; they're probably the only ones and I bet they wouldn't anyway if I hadn't known them since I was 5.

"Yeah?" I ask as they finally catch up to me.

"Are you gonna volunteer next year?" he asks as we join the queue of Careers desperate to sign in and get a good view of the action. Most years they'd all be waiting to volunteer, but everyone's heard of Maximus Hailstorm; tall, dark and handsome, he wins every fight and competition he's ever entered, he can lift 100 kilos without breaking a sweat; he's pretty much the perfect tribute.

"Hell no," I reply.

"Why not? You'd be almost as good as your brother," Pontius says in return. There it is again, my two best friends and yet still they think of me as Max's little brother. I am going to come home, whatever they say, and I'm going to come home _victorious_.

"Because I'm not waiting until next year," I growl as they realise what I've said.

"But what about Max?" they ask in unison. Normally they're the jokers and this is just part of their act, but it just ticked me off.

"So you call him 'Max' now do you? Then why don't you hang around with him now if you think he's so great," I reply, trying to keep my voice low so no one hears us.

"Sorry, Felix," Gaius replies as they take a step back, they might be Careers as well, but I'm about half a head taller and really, really pissed off, "We didn't realise! Come on, don't overreact on us."

I tried to relax; after all they hung out with me because I was a joker, not because I wanted to be in the Hunger Games.

"Look sorry, guys," I tried to apologise properly when I recognised Julius Marx and a golden opportunity to make it up to them.

Julius was a cocky, rich and arrogant bastard who wasn't that great of a Career so he made it his job to boast and bring up everybody else's failures. We hated him since Gaius and Pontius weren't anywhere near the best Careers so they were some of his favourite targets; I hated him because he didn't pick on me because of Max.

He was trying to cut in line by sidling past us, so I stuck my foot out so he tripped into some of Max's biggest friends, getting in early to see his 'triumph.'

They cracked their knuckles as they turned around to see the puny, greasy Julius on his knees behind them. He was about to turn and see who had tripped him but the huge guys beat him to it, picking him up like he weighed nothing before throwing him out of the queue onto the pavement about five metres away. A few nearby kids stepped aside and watched disinterestedly as he splattered onto the pavement while Gaius and Pontius grinned wildly.

"Nice one man!"

"Yeah, did you hear the _crack_ as he hit the ground? That was _great_!"

After I got high fives from the two of them, best friends again, we finally got to the books to sign that we'd actually been at the Reapings as the volunteering bowl was passed around. 30 years or so ago, the tributes would have had to just yell and run to the front where it all got pretty messy until someone was on top.

The Capitol decided they liked the brawl to volunteer but wanted it a bit cleaner, a bit easier to see the blood and gore. Instead, the volunteering bowl was passed around. You put your name into it if you wanted to volunteer and then when the Reaping started, whoever was on the stage and reached the escort and said their name first was the tribute. If their name wasn't in the volunteering bowl, the whole process was repeated.

Speed was the main factor; once you had the high ground you were virtually unbeatable.

The whole ordeal was carefully organised; age groups were spread out in a ring so that the front row was always the same distance from the stage if the volunteers pushed through to the front and there were several metres of space to fight before anyone reached the escort and spoke their name into the microphone.

I pushed politely through to the front of the 17s section; I didn't want to get into a fight for shoving through, either I wouldn't get through anyway or being even slightly injured would kill my speed. Plus; I wanted to seem like a boring Career, I didn't want to be remembered as the tribute everyone wanted to kill for being a threat. As good as coming onto the stage covered in blood would be; it wasn't my style.

When Max finally arrived, resplendent with his hair spiked, shirtless and wearing just his denim shorts, the crowd parted to let him through as he sauntered towards the front of the section; everyone thought he was going to be the tribute.

_No!_ I snarled to myself.

"You alright, buddy?" Gaius asked as I realised he and Pontius had joined me.

"Yeah," I replied, looking at the two of them. They were dressed in boring clothes, both in neat black slacks and t shirts, with their hair brushed, curly and black in Gaius' case, shaggy and red for Pontius.

I was dressed about the same except in black shorts and a blue button up t shirt, about the same as everyone else and almost the same as my brother except with a shirt. While his hair was dark with green eyes, mine hair was blond and my eyes were blue, a trait I'd always heard was more attractive. He was taller by a few centimetres and thicker-set while I was shorter but leaner and less bulky.

So why the hell was it that everyone thought he was the best? It wasn't personality; he was a total prick. He put a spider on my pillow when I was 3- not that I'm scared of spiders or anything- but it was huge and hairy- not that that's a problem. He always treats his girlfriends like dirt and he bullies and mocks his friends mercilessly and yet they think he's the best thing since sliced bread.

I barely even realised my daydreaming had covered the start of our glorious mentor's speech.

Jacaranda Mandragora was the classic Capitol escort; whiny, annoying and made of plastic (I was amazed she could open her mouth). She screeched about the wonders of the Games like a broken dog whistle and danced with delight as she prepared to start the girls volunteering.

The girl was clearly determined, slamming her two neighbours in the face with the sides of her hands as she sprinted and leapt onto the stage from a metre away, puffing "Aglaeca Grenier," into the microphone.

It was an impressive strategy, most of the volunteers would be from the 17s and 18s so coming from the 16s and dealing with her two nearest competitors as she began running was a neat way to leave an easy path to the stage.

I was tempted to check out my competition but now wasn't the time; I had to be ready to beat my brother.

He was clearly expecting no competition, but he was still prepared as the escort yelled, "Come on boys!"

Max sprinted for the stage, but I was faster. I could see the shock in his eyes as I just managed to get the edge to yell, "Felix Hailstorm," into the escort's mike.

Max looked the most furious I've ever seen someone look in my entire life. I expected him to start a fight then, even as the rumours spread through the crowd about us being brothers, when his eyes flickered towards the Justice Building. As he returned to his place in line I realised that he was just waiting for a better opportunity.

"Let's make the District 1 tributes welcome!" Jacaranda shrieked jubilantly as she almost ripped my arm out of its socket, pulling it into the air to show us off to the cameras.

As my brother glared, I smirked back.

Just you watch _brother_; I'll be better than you ever would have been.

**Aglaeca:**

Although she didn't know my plans for volunteering, my mother still fussed over every millimetre of my appearance. If my prep team were this bad I think I'd have to kill them. Good practice at least.

I was wearing a red satin dress that I thought way too short, but mother thought was amazing. If it were any shorter the Peacekeepers would probably charge me with Public Indecency before I could even volunteer.

_How was I supposed to beat off the other Careers wearing an extended belt?_

"Mother, how am I supposed to beat off the other Careers wearing an extended belt?" I asked as she plaited my hair together in different bands of braiding.

"You won't be doing that any time soon, so stop worrying," she replied, however seeing as she hated feeling threatened she continued, "Besides if you can't fight in a dress, who says you'll be able to fight in the tribute outfit."

_Any sane person who has watched the Games?_

"Any sane person who has watched the Games?"

Mother ignored that comment before she finally finished my hair with a flourish.

As soon as her hands were out of my hair I leap out of the chair and sprint out of the house before she can put me any of her ridiculous stilettos. They make useful weapons, but when you're running? They're bloody hopeless.

I join the queue for signing into the Reapings, annoyed to see how short it is. Normally it would be out into the street but if it's this short that means I'm late.

Dashing into the square I realise that Jacaranda's about to begin her speech. In some ways it's good because it gives me a chance to sneak through the bored kids waiting for the fun of the volunteering to start.

As soon as Jacaranda yells, "Let's go girls!" I sprint, not a thought but a reaction I've been training myself for the last 12 months since Leorica died.

I snap my hands out, chopping the two girls on either side of me in the face as I sprint forwards; most of the girls are from 17s and 18s so after knocking out my nearest competition in the 16s it's an easy run to the mike as I call my name into the escort's microphone.

Next is the guys, only one guy's meant to volunteering; some hunk named Maximus Hailstorm.

Instead there are two, and the second one makes it first, calling, "Felix Hailstorm," as he slides to a halt beside the escort.

While Jacaranda attempts to dislocate my shoulder, I grin wildly to the audience.

So they were brothers? This is going to be… interesting.

**Felix:**

As we're ushered into the Justice Building I finally get a look at my fellow tribute. Tall and fit with short, coppery hair; I don't think I've seen her before. She seemed determined when she was sprinting for the stage but now she's smiling wildly as we're led into separate rooms for the goodbyes.

Clearly they're saving the family for last as Gaius and Pontius are lead into the room.

"Hey Felix, great job back there, you even beat your brother!" The 'even' sticks in my throat but I let it pass, I'm still too pleased about beating Max.

"Yeah, but you better win; who else will make us the butt of all his jokes?"

"Thanks guys, and don't worry about me winning, I've got it in the bag," I reply, smirking at them.

"Good luck, mate, we'll be rooting for you!" they call as they leave to allow me some last time with my family before the Games.

At first it's only my mother and father. Father is silent, just watching me. His eyes have the same glint as mine get when he's trying to cover his emotions.

Mother is sobbing as she hugs me, "K-keep safe, o-okay?" she asks as she drenches my shirt. I bet she wouldn't do this to Max; it's just me because I'm her 'baby' while Max is the 'big, strong one.'

"Of course, I'll be back here in a few weeks and we can live in one of those big houses in the Victor's Village," I reply, patting her back while Father keeps staring, his hands behind his back and giving nothing away.

We stay like that for the rest of her visiting time, her crying into my shirt while I hold her tightly against my chest.

Finally the Peacekeepers escort her out and she still tries to reach for me as she's pulled away- possibly forever.

Next is Antonius. Alone.

I know what that means. It means that Max is visiting alone as well.

He keeps a slight distance away, trying to seem like Father, but I can see his eyes are slightly misty.

"Fight well, okay? Make sure you aim before you shoot, you can always spare a moment to fix your aim, and it'll gain you less than it will cost you. Get in with the Careers and stay there as long as you can, I know you can best them and you don't want to get caught out early by some upstart from the hick districts," he says, trying to stay calm, "Oh, and don't let the spiders get you, yeah?"

If this was Max I would punch him but it isn't, this is Antonius, my 20 year old brother who joined the Peacekeepers in District 1 and, despite his teasing, is the only friend better than Pontius and Gaius.

"Thanks, brother," I reply as he too is finally escorted out.

Finally it's Max and I don't know what to expect.

He looks like he's trying to keep a lid on his anger as he growls, "If you don't win, I'm _never_ gonna speak to you again, got it?"

"It would be sort of difficult," I joke in reply, but this tips him over the edge.

He smashes his fist into my nose and I can feel the cartilage snap like someone splitting my face in half, but this is the opportunity I have to finally beat Maximus one last time but as I'm about to punch back, the Peacekeepers drag him away.

I don't care if I die in the Games or if I come back victorious, all I know is that I am never sleeping under the same roof as Maximus Hailstorm _ever_ again.

**Aglaeca:**

The only visitors I get are my parents; surprise, surprise.

What else isn't surprising? The fact that all they do is get pissed off.

"What on Earth do you think you're doing?" screeches Mother. Father doesn't say anything but moves closer to her to show where his allegiance lies, "You're not ready, or did this morning not teach you that?"

I was expecting that, what I didn't expect was the sudden breakdown of tears from my mother, "Just come back, okay?" while my father pats me on the shoulder and we have a family group hug.

This is the first time we've done anything as a family that was… nice that I almost regret volunteering.

_Almost_. The fires of revenge are still too strong to quench and I still need to kill. So instead of sinking into the family moment I try to harden my mind. I will not think about family. I will not think about winning.

All that matters is to _kill_.

**I hope you guys liked it, it might be a little bit long but I wanted a good chance to sort of get into the characters' heads before the Capitol. I haven't updated the tribute list because someone said I forgot their tribute and I want to try and get as many people involved as possible.**

**Next up: The Creepy Twins**


	4. D2: The Creepy Twins

**REALLY IMPORTANT WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GORE, MENTIONS OF PLAYING HIDE AND SEEK INSIDE DEAD PEOPLE, ANIMAL CRUELTY AND VIOLENCE AGAINST CHILDREN. THAT'S NOT EVEN COUNTING THE CREEPINESS OF THE LITTLE KIDS.**

**CONSIDER JUST THIS CHAPTER 'M' RATED**

**Oh and if you spot a grammar or spelling mistake in any chapter, please tell me about it. I try to check it (and I spell things the British way so don't complain if it's that) but I like to update as soon as possible. So if you see any, tell me about it and I'll fix it, I want to make sure the story's as good as possible. I use spell check but that doesn't tell you when you're missing a letter if it's still a word. On that note, thanks Gary for pointing that out, I fixed that error.**

**In this chapter it's mostly intentional. It's also a bit shorter because these two are 12.**

**Making it clearer here: Fleur and Valentine are the same person. Fleur Valentine Beahr (and her mother) have multiple personality disorder. Fleur is the violent, creepy one while Valentine is the nice, babyish one.  
><strong>

** Oh and Gary, that was so I could make her and Calvin more feasible best friends so Valentine is now totally nice, sweet and kind while Fleur is _totally_ nuts and violence.  
><strong>

**District 2: Calvin Emil**

I'm happy this year. Normally the Reapings are so dull and all the big kids always push us around like they're the best.

Well this year I'm going to prove it to them. Finally Fleur and I are old enough to volunteer for the Hunger Games.

All that blood, all that pain. We always try to catch Verity but she always hides from me and she never fights back. It's so boring playing with Verity and she doesn't squeal when we cut her open. That girl, the one from the big house with the red roof, _she_ could scream; squealing and screeching every time the knife touched her. I got to watch as her blood spilled down her arms and legs; it was fascinating watching the little red rivulets run from the gashes in her flesh.

Verity's cat was no fun to play with.

Fleur and I tried drowning the cat to see it take its last breaths as it struggled and its heart pulsed under my fingers. Fleur even stole one of her mother's kitchen knives and cut it open but its guts were too small, even cutting the heart in half didn't show us much of the inside bits. We'd always wanted to get to see a real heart but the cat's was so boring.

This year we were going to get some real human hearts from the Hunger Games. There would be so many humans running around, their hearts beating warm, red blood through their veins. We could cut them, watch the blood pour out of their veins, watch the fountains from the arteries and feel the beat of a human heart with our hands as we cut it open and watched the parts move under our fingers.

I wonder what would happen if we were to crush a lung or a kidney under our feet, would we be able to make it pop? Would the tributes still live if we played with their intestines? I think the big one should be long enough for skipping.

I don't think there's a better hiding spot for hide and seek than inside a dead person's skin. If you burn all of the organs, pull the brains out and make them into paste and twist the muscles into ropes, you could easily hide inside the skin and no one would ever see you.

Even Fleur couldn't catch me then.

The Reapings are about to start while Daddy sits in front of the television. He's watching the start of the Reapings because he doesn't have to come watch us. I want to see our new test subjects before I cut them open, but I need to go.

Daddy understands.

He knows what it's like to hear the screams and enjoy it.

He taught me the most valuable lesson I could think of; how good suffering feels.

When I grow up, I want to be just like him.

**District 2: Fleur Valentine Beahr**

I can't wait until the Reapings.

Calvin and I are finally going to get to see real human hearts. The cat's looked kinda funny; it was too small and there were all these other organs near it. In the Games there's going to be lots of different ones to see and cut up. I wanted to play with the little webbed bits but Calvin said we could find a bigger one and that would be even _more_ fun.

I'm already in my favourite Reaping dress when I go downstairs for breakfast; we have a big house in the middle of District 2. It's pretty and the roof is light blue but Mama won't let me paint it red. I'm sure I could get enough blood with Calvin.

"Honey, are you looking forward to the Reapings?" Mama asked as she put slices of toast in the toaster.

"Yes, I can't wait to see the Games and all the blood. All those hear-" I try saying before Mama cuts me off.

"Tide turner, dearest. I honestly don't understand while that changes during the night."

Tide turner's my happy phrase. Sometimes Fleur comes out and she doesn't like being nice and her favourite colour is red. But I'm Valentine and I think it's a pretty name just like blue is the prettiest colour anywhere.

"I think Fleur likes the night time," I reply as I eat my toast after Mama cuts it into triangles.

"I suppose, Rachel likes the night time too," Mama says, she's Eli but sometimes Rachel likes to come out and play sometimes.

There's a knock on the door as Papa comes down the stairs still in his pajamas, "Papa, aren't you going to the Reapings?"

"This year you have to go by yourself or with Calvin because I think he's at the door," Papa replies as he takes my seat at the kitchen table.

"Doesn't Rachel mind?" I know Rachel doesn't like me going to places alone and she always goes with me everywhere. Fleur finds it annoying but I like spending time with Rachel, she always makes sure I know what to do.

'Rachel's having a nice sleep honey, now go on; you don't want to be late for the Reapings," Mama replies as she gives me a hug before I open the door to go to the Reapings.

Calvin's leaning against the wall in his best pants and a fancy shirt and he mutters, "Tide turner," as soon as I leave the house.

"I really don't get why they make that Valentine thing come out all the time," Calvin says as we start walking towards the main square. District 2 is one of the biggest districts and you can still see the mountains in the distance but Mama and Papa never let us try and find hearts in the woods.

"Maybe we should look at Mama and Papa's hearts!" I decide as we join the line of big Careers who think _they're _going to the Games.

"But then we'd miss the Games and there's… eleven times as many there," Calvin points out as I nod.

"Yeah, we need to make sure we get lots. Maybe they'll let us keep one as a present!"

**Calvin:**

At least Fleur's here with me as we get ready to volunteer for the Games; Valentine's so happy and boring. She doesn't even want to see blood and she won't play with Verity with me.

Sometimes Valentine even stops us from getting kitchen knives.

Delilah Dandelion is her usual cheery self as she skips onto the stage, her skin and hair still dyed the same horrible shade of neon yellow as her eyes. She's certainly a lot cheerier than the escorts in the bad districts like 11 and 12 and she rounds up her speech fast, she wants to see the volunteers too.

I glance at Fleur and check that Valentine hasn't come back as Delilah calls, "Let's go girls in 3, 2, 1, GO!"

Fleur sprints for the stage, the fight going on in the 16s to 18s is far away from her as she jumps onto the stage and calls, "Fleur Beahr," into the microphone in a sing-song voice that I love, especially while she's cutting things open.

"The name is here, folks, so let's welcome Fleur Va-" Fleur shook her head, "Fleur Beahr, everyone!" Delilah calls as she prepares the boys' volunteer bowl.

"Now for the boys! Come on volunteers in 3, 2, 1, GO!" she calls as I sprint for the stage.

A sixteen year old, probably a brother of another volunteer who watched Fleur volunteer beside me, tries to block my path but I just duck through his legs as I call, "Calvin Emil!" into the microphone before I even stop running.

The eighteen year old nearest the stage death stared me from the first stair on the side as I stuck my tongue out at him and grinned for the cameras. I didn't care if I looked crazy; this was my dream and maybe insanity would even work in my favour.

**Fleur:**

Calvin and I are holding hands as we walk to the Reapings. There's no way the Capitol's going to separate us; we're going to the Games _together_.

He doesn't seem nervous as his eyes slide sideways to look at me before staring back at our escort the delightful Delilah Dandelion. He's probably checking that Valentine's still securely locked up.

_Don't worry Calvin; I'm not going to let that pacifist ruin my big day_.

I don't even have to say it as Calvin nods slightly before Delilah calls, "Let's go girls in 3, 2, 1, GO!"

I've already let go of Calvin's hand as I sprint for the stage. It's even easier than I thought it would be, the older kids fight while I jump smartly onto the stage from the other side, covering my eyes from Delilah's hideous yellow outfit as I call my name into the microphone.

"The name is here, folks," she didn't believe I'd volunteered? How could she be such a dumb-dumb? "So let's welcome Fleur Va-,"I shook my head, she wasn't going to bring my little baby half into this, "Fleur Beahr, everyone!" Delilah calls before she collects the boys' volunteer bowl.

Delilah looks happy but I'm thinking about how horrible the yellow is. I like red, it's pretty like blood, and Valentine likes blue which is hideous, like our roof, but we agree we hate yellow. It's so not pretty.

Calvin's turn is up next as Delilah calls, "Now for the boys! Come on volunteers in 3, 2, 1, GO!"

He gets blocked for a moment by a huge sixteen year old and for a moment I'm scared I'll only see the pretty blood and hearts on my own when he ducks between the guys legs and jumps onto the stage, saying his name into the microphone.

I knew they couldn't beat Calvin.

She holds both our arms up as we smile at the cameras before we get led into the Justice Building.

Yay, I get to see the pretty blood soon.

**Calvin:**

No one comes to visit me in the Justice Building, but I don't care. I'm going to go see the hearts with Fleur in the big Capitol and when I come back, Daddy's going to see that I can be just like him.

Verity didn't visit me either.

I wanted to get some practice before I left but she didn't come visit me and the Peacekeepers didn't let me keep my knives. They were such big bullies. No one in the Capitol would take my knives.

Mother didn't visit me because she's dead.

I don't care; she always treated me like a baby. She was such a wimp, crying all the time. She should have taken the beating like everyone else did, she deserved it for being such a wimp but instead she gave up and died.

I was happy; I didn't want to live with a wimp like her.

I just crossed my arms and waited for all of Fleur's family to go and say goodbye to their precious little Valentine.

**Valentine:**

Mama and Papa were sobbing as they come into the Justice Building.

"Tide turner," Mama whispered as she came in and Fleur was locked up in the back of my mind, making me in my happy place.

I didn't get why Papa was crying, he made weapons for the Games so I could still see him in the big Capitol. Mama might not get to see me again soon so I know why she was sad.

"Darling, I know it was Fleur that did this, but you do understand the Games, yes?" Papa asks, breaking through his tears.

"Fleur wants to see yucky red stuff with Calvin," I reply, trying to show that I knew why I was going.

"Darling, people die in the Hunger Games. 24 people, 2 from each District go and kill each other and you and Calvin are going together. Only one person can survive," Papa explains, not even trying to hide his tears, "You have to win, Val, you have to come home."

"But what about Calvin?" I asked; they were getting me all confused.

"It doesn't matter about Calvin; all that matters is that you come home, safely to us!" Mama cries, still sobbing into my shirt as she pulls me into a tight hug.

"You mean Calvin or me are going to sleep forever?" I asked, scared now.

"Yes, darling, that's what I mean," Papa chokes.

"Why does Fleur want Calvin to die?" I was really scared, I didn't want to die, I wanted to see the pretty blue, I wanted to grow up and live in District 4 with the pretty blue of the ocean. I didn't want to die!

"I don't know darling, I really don't," Mama whispers as the Peacekeepers come to take them away. I'm scared; I don't want Mama and Papa to go before the scary Games!

"Tide turner!" shouts my father as the doors are dragged shut.

I don't get it.

Why would they want me out, they always want Valentine?

Unless they want me to kill.

I'd be only too happy to do so.

Blood was too pretty to be in people.

**Calvin and Fleur are really 12 but I tried to make them seem younger and thus creepier. If you're an offended twelve year old (who probably shouldn't have read that) I'm not intentionally being derogatory to your intelligence as an age group.**


	5. D3: Innocence Was Bliss

**Coming up with the ideas for Calvin and Fleur screwed with my mind so I wrote this one pretty much straight up. I might get District 4 done but I'm going away and I can take a laptop but I don't know about internet so I might not update for a while.**

**I fixed some of my cruelty to the common comma in previous chapters but I'll try doing some more such as getting rid of my habit of putting commas before the word 'but.' **

**If there are any more mistakes tell me, but I was writing this at midnight so there's probably a couple that I'll find and fix tomorrow. Ignore what tense it's in, it varies and I'm about to fall asleep.  
><strong>

**District 3: Lucas Wre**

Reaping Day was so stupid. Why did the Capitol get to tell us what to do about everything? I didn't want to be told what to do by the Capitol, then they made two kids every year go to the Capitol District and then they only let one come back after that weird TV show.

Mother and Father didn't let me watch much of it because they thought it was too scary for me and it went all night but I sometimes saw little bits. There were those people hiding in trees and sometimes they fought with huge spurts of fake blood.

Why didn't anyone stop the Capitol from doing whatever they wanted? All those Peacekeepers were annoying and they wouldn't let us go outside at night and they forced everyone to do whatever they wanted. They didn't let us have much food and everyone worked all day and then gave everything to the Capitol, but they didn't give us anything.

It was meant to be Sam's birthday but instead of going to his house we had to go stuck going to some stupid name drawing in our best clothes.

Hail got to stay at home like I did before this year. She was only 5 so she got to sit around watching television, not that I wanted her to have to listen to all the boring speeches but it was annoying that some of us had to get up and go to the Reapings.

Father was going to the pub to get a drink. Father never normally drinks but he did today while the Capitol forces all the kids to go ot the Reapings.

We had porridge for breakfast, it was pretty much tasteless and once again I blamed the Capitol. Every year they come in their stupid fancy cars and trains in those stupid costumes while we ate cold porridge even though we lived in the District that came up with the microwave.

At least it meant I got to spend the day with Sam, Nelly and Stacy without any school even though it was a week day.

They were meant to be waiting for me but I guessed they weren't up yet as I walked to Nelly's house seeing as she always got up first.

When I knocked on the door I could hear someone sprint down the stairs, I guessed it was Nelly. She yanked the door open to show her hair curled on top of her head with some type of shiny cream all through it.

"You excited for this _fabulous _experience?" I asked as she scowled, trying to take one of the clips out of her ridiculous hairstyle after yanking her fancy shoes off.

"Oh yeah Luke, gotta love my mother spending the last three hours ripping my hair out in a more 'attractive' fashion and forcing me into high heels," Nelly replies sarcastically but then again she always is sarcastic, "This is probably the only time you're every going to hear me say this Luke, so listen up: it makes me envy you being a guy."

"Whoa Nelly, did I just hear you say you envy guys? I should've brought a voice recorder, I think that's the only time I've ever heard you say that," Stacy grins as she skips to catch up with us. Unlike Nelly she's still in a fancy dress with her hair braided and shoes with heels.

"Maybe I should buy a voice recorder and record everything you say and play it to your mother," Nelly snaps as Stacy grins wildly.

"Maybe I should repay the favour," Stacy replies before glossing over Nelly's probably abusive and sarcastic reply as Sam leaps out of his doorway to join us on the way to the square.

"Come on guys, hurry up, before Mom tries to catch me," he says under his breath as we all hurry up until we turn a corner.

"I bet your Mom wouldn't have any trouble catching you, you're so much slower than me," I grinned as Sam tries to chase me down the street before I do a victory dance as he finally puffs and gives up, "I'm the best! I'm the best!"

I get scowled at by several teenagers in fancy clothes as they walk in groups towards the Reapings.

I don't get what's with the Reapings and dressing up, our parents use heaps of their money to buy fancy clothes when we could buy other stuff just because the Capitol tells us to.

Why doesn't anyone ever fight back?

**District 3: Florence "Flo" Wren**

I hate getting up for Reapings.

Every year I hear more and stories about the people getting tortured in the Games. Lisa said her aunt had her fingers cut off one by one. Mark said his older cousin had his toenails cut out by the Careers after he allied with them. Jay said her grandfather had his eyes gouged out by his District partner but she died so he had to spend 3 days with no eyes before he was killed.

Mother wanted me to go and work in the factories to keep my mind off the Games and to stop me listening to my friends but the factories are even worse. Peter lost his right arm when he was 12 working in a factory and Gina got electrocuted when she was 14.

No way was I going to work in the factories.

Mother tried telling me to get out more, that maybe seeing more of the District would make me less nervous. I tried going out after school once and I got coughed on by a strange man in the street.

Even after using disinfectant I felt dirty for a week. I had to stay inside or I might get sick like that man.

I was woken up at 7am precisely for the Reapings to start at nine.

I ate breakfast at 7.05. I brushed my teeth at 7.12. I did my hair until 8.15. I got dressed in my Reaping outfit before going downstairs at 8.25.

I said good morning to father while he ate breakfast, Mother was getting ready for work.

When I put Gran's bread in the toaster I realised the chair at the kitchen bench was off by a centimetre.

I tried putting it back into place as Mother knocked it while she ran to work in the small grocery shop on the corner of our street. As soon as I moved it again there was a slight scuff mark on the floor.

I rubbed it off but then Gran's toast popped 3 seconds early. The butter wasn't quite soft enough to spread in one swipe and by the time I gave it to Gran I was running 27 seconds late.

Gran was still in her chair instead of eating breakfast but she'd been like that for days. She used to always get up at the same time and she always used to have porridge for breakfast at the same time every day.

Then she started getting sick like that man and she spent lots of time outdoors. Now she just sits in the chair all day. I want to move her to her bed but she was too frail.

I didn't want to get Reaped; I wanted to at least be there when Gran passed away.

Everything was going wrong for me, the toast, the chair and the Reapings were coming.

They'd probably go wrong too. The whole world was going wrong; it wasn't going the way it was supposed to. Maybe the world wanted me to get Reaped; maybe everything was a conspiracy for the Capitol to destroy me from within.

Maybe not.

No, 46 seconds late, it was definitely all going to go wrong.

**Lucas:**

Unlike the Career Districts on either side of us, Districts 1,2 and 4, we didn't have the volunteering bowl so we didn't have to go to the Reapings until later but we still needed to find Jordon.

Stacy said we should just knock on his door but considering his habit of getting himself into trouble asking his mother where he was probably wasn't a good idea.

After ten minutes of searching near our houses, Jordon's house and the square I decided we'd meet him in the age group section anyway, "Come on guys, he'll find us when we're in the square."

Sam looked less certain as he replied, "Yeah, but there's so many people there we won't be able to catch up with him until after everyone's cleared out."

Despite my advice always ending up well like avoiding the bullies at school and gaining us lollies, everyone still looked like they weren't sure whether they agreed with me.

Stacy was about to reply when Jordon appeared, grinning manically from the alleyway behind us.

"Looking for me?" he asked casually with an ear-to-ear grin as we started walking back towards the square.

"Where were you? We've been looking all over," Nelly asked, exasperated. She and Jordon had a… thing, not that they'd admit it.

"Let's just say the Peacekeepers won't be using that punishment record any time soon," Jordon replied as I realised there was a faint smell of smoke coming from the building down the alleyway he appeared from.

"That'll really help you get the Peacekeepers off your back Jordon," Nelly replied as we joined the queue before they had to be quiet as we're ushered into the square by most of the Peacekeeping squad.

Jordon and I were too busy playing chopsticks in the roped off section to notice our escort much while she blathers on about the Games. We were playing redskins before she was even approaching the Reaping bowl and that's saying something because Jordon and I take ages to play since we've known each other from the first day of school.

I tuned in enough to realise that Nelly and Stacy hadn't been Reaped before tuning back out again as Jordon slapped my hand. I barely even noticed the girl being dragged onto the stage by Peacekeepers although Jordon snickers.

Once again I was vaguely listening to the Reapings when I realise what name has been called, "Lucas Wre."

Jordon looked terrified as he pushed me towards the stage. I know he'd watched the Games and I couldn't help but wonder what I didn't know as I stumbled up the stairs to stand next to our candy-coloured escort.

I know sometimes kids volunteer but everyone just stared and I could tell that some of them feel sorry for me and yet they just sat and stared. Jordon, my best friend, just bit his lip as I could see my friends biting back tears.

So what about the Games, I was braver than any of those other kids out there, I knew how to fight.

Yet I still didn't want to go to the stupid Games in the Capitol, I didn't want to have to stay there forever, I wanted to go home and visit my friends, get a job and grow old and get married. I didn't know about the Games, but I know almost no one comes back.

As I thought this I realised my friends aren't the only ones biting back tears.

**Flo:**

When I arrived at the Reapings I was 44 seconds late.

It meant that I'd caught up by 2 seconds but that meant I walked 2 seconds faster than I normally do.

I felt sick as the Reapings start 1.03 minutes late.

The escort droned as I tried and ease the headache I get whenever something isn't quite right combined with the certainty it was going to be my name drawn out of the Reaping bowl.

Mother didn't like the Reapings either which is why on Reaping Day I know she always goes to work an hour early and buys a nice dinner on the way home once it's over.

Her boyfriend Jax Gear died in the 24th Hunger Games when he was my age because he was eaten by sabre tooth tiger mutts.

I sat with the group I normally sit with at school as they talked under their breath while the escort droned, her rainbow wig remaining dead still in the faint breeze.

"You all right, Flo?" Meg asked, giving me a funny look as I clench my fists.

I just nodded as the escort plunged her hand into the bowl, drawing out the name of the female tribute from District 3 for the 54th Hunger Games.

"Florence Wren," she called, grinning, as I just sit there. Meg tries to push me towards the stage but to no avail as I clench onto the seat.

I couldn't go to the Games, I wouldn't be able to see Gran, I wouldn't be able to clean my room on Tuesday, I wouldn't be able to hand in my homework on Friday.

I had tried to convince myself I was being paranoid but I wasn't. I was going into the Hunger Games. I was going to see all that blood and the people dying. I was going to be tortured and die brutally.

I wasn't going.

If I sat here it would all be gone.

It would be a dream.

The Peacekeepers grab my arms as I try to curl into a ball before they pull me towards the stage.

I try clawing at them, I'm meant to be in the chair, I have to eat lunch at 12.14, I can't go to the Games. "No, don't make me go! You can't take me there; you can't force me to go!" I scream as they deposit me on the stage, one standing either side of me as the escort eyes me distastefully.

Finally, she digs the boy's name out while I'm still on the floor, sobbing and feeling like I'm going to puke.

"Lucas Wre," she calls as a twelve year old slowly stumbles towards the stage. He doesn't even look that scared, just angry as he looks out over the audience.

Maybe realisation sets in as he starts to look slightly sadder while the escort calls out our names.

Doesn't he care that he's not going to be home on time or eat at the right time?

Does he even realise he's going to his doom?

**Lucas:**

We get led into the Justice Building by Peacekeepers, or in Flo's case dragged, after the official proceedings are finished.

She gets thrown in one room while I get deposited in the room opposite. I can't believe how amazing this building looks considering how crummy and poor most houses in District 3 are.

Nelly, Stacy and Sam are led in together and I wondered if Jordon was out blowing up some more Peacekeeper's records in the Justice Building.

Stacy and Sam are bawling their eyes out while Nelly tries to keep a lid on herself.

"Come back, yeah Luke?" Nelly says as she clenches and unclenches her fists. I don't get it, why does everyone hate the stupid Games so much? I know they're annoying and the Capitol makes us send people to them but why is everyone so sad.

"What do you mean, come back?" I asked as Stacy and Sam join me in a forcible group hug.

"Do you know what the Games are, Luke?"

"I know they've got those stupid fights with the fake blood and that you only ever see one person sometimes come back," I replied, "It's the Capitol's stupid entertainment, like everything we make."

"Luke… everything you see is real; the blood, the death, it's all real. The 23 kids that don't come back, they're dead, Luke," Nelly replied, no sarcasm in her voice as I tried to see if she's joking.

"You mean I might die, for the Capitol?" I was in disbelief, why didn't anyone fight back if kids _died_ every year?

"Yeah Luke, that's _exactly_ what I mean," whispered Nelly as she finally gave into the tears and joined the group hug.

I felt like crying, like giving up hope but I'm braver than that, I can win these Games no matter what happens. There was no way anyone was going to stop Lucas Wre coming home to his family and friends.

The Peacekeepers cough as Nelly, Stacy and Sam disentangled themselves from the hug.

"Don't worry about me guys, I'll be home by next Thursday," I said as they're led out by Peacekeepers.

"Good luck… Luke," Nelly replied with a weak smile as Stacy and Sam start crying again.

Next is Jordon, I've known him since primary school so I shouldn't be surprised he's alone. "Hey, Luke," he said as he's led in. Normally he's hyper and excited but this had taken the edge off his personality.

"Hey Jordon, didn't find any more records in here?" I joked but he barely even smiled.

"Nah, they're locked down pretty tight. Nothing flammable I could see around here anyway, too much marble," he replied, but I can tell he was uneasy with joking.

"If I… don't come back," I began as Jordon looked away slightly, "Ask Nelly out, yeah? Make up for all the times I won't get to badger you about it when we're older."

Jordon smiled weakly, "It's that obvious, is it?"

"Only to me," I replied as he too was led out of the room to make way for my parents.

They were clearly trying to fake being happy and I wondered why until I saw Hail pop out from behind them.

"Hey Luke, you get to go in the big Games, you can win a pretty house in the Victor's Village and buy me lots of presents," Hail grinned as she hugged my leg.

Mother and Father both still look sombre as they each gave me a hug and Mother kissed me on the cheek. I could feel a single tear running down her face but she was clearly still trying to keep a lid on herself for Hail as they stood up again.

I knew it might be the last time we saw each other, but I couldn't think of anything to say.

"I'll win, don't worry, I'll get us a big house and buy lots of presents for Hail," I said, trying to keep my parents happy.

"That's my boy, always brave," Mother smiled weakly as Father patted me on the shoulder awkwardly.

"Good luck, son."

"Thanks, father."

A Peacekeeper opened the doors and Hail waved goodbye as they closed on my family, maybe forever.

No.

Not forever.

I was going to win for my family and to see Jordon and Nelly get married. I wasn't going to die. Not for the Capitol. Not for anyone.

I wasn't going to die.

**Flo:**

The Justice Building was all wrong.

The chairs weren't high enough, the clock was 20 seconds slow and the Peacekeeper had his shirt slightly untucked.

My family all came together, even Gran to say goodbye.

They didn't talk much, they just stood awkwardly as Gran came forward and hugged me and whether it's because of me or because of her, it was probably for the last time.

"You shouldn't have come," I whispered.

"If not now, when would I ever move again?" she asked, cackling slightly as she sat on the couch that was meant for me before the train arrived.

We all hugged as Mother and Father cried; Mother's sobs wracking and desperate as she clung onto me. I was an only child and if I died my parents were probably too old for more children.

The Peacekeepers dragged them out after five minutes and for once I found myself wishing they could have stayed for longer than they were meant to.

I was going to die.

I knew it.

The world had been against me since this morning with the chair.

I was probably going to be a bloodbath.

But I still didn't want to die.

**I hope you liked it; the final tribute list should be up soon including tributes moved to other Districts.**


	6. D4: Accidents Happen

**Sorry guys but this is going to be (probably) my last update for around a week, I'm going on holidays and I might be able to write some more but I don't know about internet…**

**The name Niger means river of rivers and isn't an accidentally misspelled racist faux pas.**

**District 4: Felix Haas**

People cowered away from me in the street as I sauntered towards the square. Best they should or they'd end up with my big brother. He thought he was so tough and look where he is now; swimming with the fishes.

A little girl almost got run over as she tried to cross the road to avoid me. _That's right you little bitch, run back to Mommy_.

I was getting to the square early; no way was I going to be pushed out of the way by those gits from the 17s and 18s. It was gonna be Felix Haas this year, standing on that stage and listening to the catcalls of my adoring fans in the Capitol. Those big 'tough guys' a.k.a the bid shitheads from the 17s and 18s were going to be left in the dust.

I could already see the crowds as they announced Felix Haas as the newest victor of the Games, Felix Haas; the strongest, fastest and best Career of them all. I wasn't afraid of anything they could throw at me; Felix Haas was the best of the best. All those wimps that had won the Games in the past? Pathetic. Crying and drinking, trying to drug the 'pain' away. What pain was there in winning?

All those babies volunteering to get their names drawn and then when they win they're all sad and lonely. What losers. I'd dreamed of winning since I could think and yet it's always someone older and weaker than me who gets picked. They stop me from fulfilling my dream and then they come home crying and depressed about being in the Games.

If I won I'd be happy, I'd be the King of the District with everyone kissing the land I walk on for winning them food for another year and prosperity for this District's pathetic tributes and people.

I wish I was born in District 2, all those Careers, training and practising all year round and I'd be better than the rest, the King of the Careers.

To do after Games list: Change my name to Felix King.

I'm the first kid at the Reapings and I'm going to be the first one to win.

**District 4: Summer Ciel**

Today's the one day of the year that I don't spend with Stella and I'm not sure if it's a good or a bad thing. Sure she's annoying but it's like a little sister annoying.

The reason I'm not going to see her isn't exactly great either.

I'm not saying I _want_ her in the Reapings or anything but it's boring having no one to talk to. Logan is still eighteen, just, but he'll be in a totally different section but at least with all the cocky Career guys around he's in no danger of being Reaped.

Instead I'm sitting in my room while my mother covers me in make up and a ridiculous dress she ordered from the Capitol. It's blue like the reef about three kilometres out from the shore and if it weren't for the reason why I'm wearing it today.

Normally spending time with my mother is great, except for the whole bipolar thing after she won her Games. Today it's a drag; since Dad died before I was born she's been permanently paranoid about me getting Reaped to the stage that every Reaping Day is a matter of me getting up at 6 am so that she can make sure I look perfect for the cameras.

It's definitely not a boost on the worst day of my year but I guess the same applies to her having to find out who she'll be mentoring and watching dies this year and whether, maybe, it'll be me.

If it was anyone else I'd be running for the beach but seeing as it's Mother I sit in silence in the chair and hope she'll be done soon. At least she has to be ready for the cameras before anyone else so I'll get to spend some time with Logan and everyone else before the Reapings.

I'm not sure if it's a good or a bad thing I think about Logan before any of my other friends. Sure he saved my life but that's not why I want to see him all dressed up for the Reapings.

Finally Mother sighs as she stands up with a last pat of my hair. She was dressed long before I woke up, but it's clear that she doesn't care anywhere near as much about how she looks as how I do.

She gives me a last hug before she hurries off to prepare for the Reapings with all of District 4's other victors.

Logan's waiting outside for me and I feel my heart give a tiny skip; not that anyone else is ever going to find out about that. He's grinning, wearing a loose shirt and jeans, never one to overdress.

"You look nice," he smiles as we walk towards the main square.

I don't know if it's a compliment or sarcasm but I hope for the best and reply, "Thanks."

We talk about fishing and a new spear I got from Mother as we walk towards the square, trying to delay the inevitable anxiety of the Reapings, crossing our fingers and hoping it won't be us.

**Felix:**

I can't wait for the Reapings to begin.

I can see tons of sullen teenagers, praying they won't be Reaped. I don't know what they're getting at. Surely they should be excited at getting the chance to be on TV; to be famous and win all the money they could ever want as well as the love of their District?

Yet they're not.

Probably just because they're not as good as me; not good enough to win.

I'm going to win, I don't care about anyone else; they don't deserve to win anyway; they weren't born with the skill, the class and the looks to win the Hunger Games.

Their loss I guess.

Everyone clears out of my way as I move towards the front of my age group; no way was I going to be beaten by anyone else because they were in front of me in the group.

Yeah, that's right, you better fear me because I'm going to be the next victor of the Hunger Games. No more pathetic "Careers" disgracing the name of District 4. I bet the other Districts all think District 4's so crummy and unworthy but I'm going to prove them wrong.

Whale Heartson changed his name several years ago when he was given District 4 to escort. He even got fish scales tattooed all over his face and tiny gills carved into his neck.

Everyone thinks the only reason he hasn't been demoted is that they don't want to inflict him on any lesser Districts with his weird fish obsession.

Still, I don't care about my escort; the mentors can deal with him and all the gifts I'm going to get from the Capitol sponsors.

I mean, who wouldn't want to sponsor Felix Haas? Tall, handsome, strong and well-trained there isn't even going to be a competition. They might as well give me the trophy, the money and the house and be done with it; it isn't like anyone else is going to beat me.

There are a few noises of shock when the girl's name is drawn but I don't care. Soon the entire District is going to be watching Felix Haas as I volunteer and then they're going to be looking at the soon-to-be newest victor of District 4.

District 4 has a Volunteer bowl, but when it's empty enough, like the girl's one was, they just go back to the good old-fashioned name drawing.

For the males I get to show off before they crown me District 4's newest male tribute and soon-to-be victor.

"Come on boys, let's show those other Districts how it's done!" Whale shouts as I sprint for the stage.

The 16s are near a set of stairs which I sprint up to avoid the onrush of people trying to climb onto the stage while being shoved off by their competitors. It's even easier than I'd expected and I was almost disappointed as I said my name into the mike.

Well at least I was until I reminded myself that I was the better than everyone else by miles.

**Summer:**

"You totally like him," Brenna whispers as the age group becomes more packed as I shoot a quick glance at Logan to see him grinning back.

"No I don't, we're just friends, now shut up," I hiss in reply as Brenna grins and tries to hold in a laugh.

"You should totally ask him out. You're so into each other," Brenna replies, still not taking the oh-so-subtle hint and shutting up.

"Wait he's into me?" I ask but as Brenna's grin widens I realise I've fallen right into her trap. It's true I've had a crush on him since he pulled me out of that riptide, black hair glistening in the sun as he pulled me back to shore but there's no way I'm telling Brenna that, "Oh shut up Brenna, you're telling me nothing's going on with you and Niger?"

That shut her up as she gulps for a few seconds before finally shutting her mouth and stalking off to join some other friends. Maybe she was just joking around but that really ticked me off.

Whale looks like his usual creepy self. I could be wrong but it looks like he's had even more scales tattooed onto his face. Soon he'll have more ink than brain in his head; not that that was too hard.

He isn't as bad as the usual droners from the other Districts but his voice is deep and sounds like a constipated whale, I'm a District 4 girl- I would know and not just because Logan took me to see one last year, and I can't help but wonder if he had surgery on his vocal chords.

He finally gets around to drawing the girl's name and he's definitely mastered the art of suspense as he slowly unfolds it.

I'm hoping and praying to all those gods I don't believe in that it won't be me when Whale reads, "Summer Ciel."

I guess Mother wasn't so wrong after all and I can see the tears streaming down her face as she sits on the stage, looking torn between the Capitol's demands and me as she dithers on the edge of her seat.

I shake my head at her as I hold my head high and climb the stairs up to the stage. If they're going to try and get back at my mother I'm not giving them the satisfaction of getting through to me.

The whispers hiss through the crowd about my being a victor's daughter but I ignore them as I come to a halt beside Whale.

The male is a massive git. I vaguely remember hearing about him a few years ago after his brother died in a training "accident." Everyone knew it was Felix but there wasn't any proof except the fact that he's a total narcissistic dick who couldn't handle being overshadowed by his brother.

Whale tries to hold our arms in the air like Districts 1 and 2 do but I yank my arm out of his grip and fold them across my chest. He looks almost hurt, but he seems so inhuman and it's not like the Capitol gives a damn about any of our feelings so I just shrug it off and stand there while the cameras are probably zooming around form all angles.

Oh well.

Life sucks, I guess I should have realised that earlier.

I'll have a lot of time to learn that lesson very soon.

**Felix:**

My parents come and visit me first but the atmosphere is awkward.

They don't give me a hug or tell me they love me or any number of other classic goodbyes.

In a way I guess they're glad to be rid of me after the Jonas incident.

I'll definitely be glad to get rid of them; they're just dead weight, dragging me down after I win the Games and get rich and famous in the Capitol. I get a half-hearted 'good luck' from Father but they seem happier when they're led out by the Peacekeepers.

They've already got grandchildren from Lena, my next visitor, so really I'm free to do whatever I want without their pathetic 'morals' and their love of my older, deader brother.

Lena doesn't bring her husband or her children who are 3 and 1, I don't get why she doesn't want to get her kids ready to start training for the Games ASAP and win her tons of money and a house in the Victor's Village and to be just like their uncle Felix.

Instead she comes to say goodbye. Like she doesn't believe I'm going to win. She knows I beat Jonas, two years older and taller, when I was 14 and yet she's still saying goodbye.

"Good luck, little brother," she says, fiddling with a bit of hair and not meeting my eyes, "I know I haven't seen you in ages but I still don't want you to die."

"Do you really have that little faith in me?" I laugh.

She looks pained, "It's not that," she's lying but she's also wrong, "I just don't want you to die without me at least having said goodbye first. If you die maybe I'll name my next son Felix."

"Fine you've said goodbye. Next time you see me I'm going to be the newest victor, don't you worry about that, sis," I reply as she leaves. Maybe I might give her some of my money if I win, for the kids… nah. Unless she names them in my living honour she doesn't deserve to share in my greatness.

I guess Sophie's trying to look after Marie so that she doesn't know what's happening to me because neither of my other sisters come to wish me luck; not that I need it. I'm good enough already.

I know most tributes would probably be worrying about their families right now but I don't care.

I'm going to see them in a few weeks anyway.

**Summer:**

Mother is the first visitor; smashing through the doors, sobbing as I catch her in my arms while she cries. Unless there's only one mentor, the victors aren't allowed to mentor their own children so she'll be watching me on TV with no control over what happens to me.

After Father and her own Games I think that it might push her over the edge she's been walking with insanity. I try not to break down while Mother holds onto me but I'm fairly unsuccessful. Normally I hate letting anyone see me get emotional, but this might be the last time I ever see my mother.

"Don't worry, if I… if I don't come back, Logan and Stella will look after you," I whisper.

Mother laughs slightly, but it's a mirthless laugh, "Yes I expect Logan will but you know who he'd rather look after. If not for me, do everything you can to get back for him."

I smile for what's probably the last time as she holds me tightly in her arms before Peacekeepers pull her away.

I try to chase after her, to stop the Peacekeepers from taking my mother but they hold the doors resolutely closed until I back away.

I thought Mother was the worst possible person I could have to say goodbye to until Stella comes running into the room. She's only eleven and I'm not quite sure how we ended up best friends; all I know is that I can't bear to see her crying like she is now.

"Summer… don't let them… take you," she chokes out between sobs.

"I can't Stel; you just have to stay strong for me, okay?" I reply as she keeps trying to choke down tears, "But I promise I'll come back to you, okay? I'll do everything I can to make sure I win these Games and then you can come with me to the Victor's Village."

It helps a bit, but Stella isn't stupid. She knows that I'm trying to make her feel better and that I've got a limited chance of winning no matter how hard I try.

"Okay Summer," she replies, biting her thumb like she's 8 again.

She starts crying again and I try to make up for all the times I won't get to see her in the future with a single hug.

It doesn't work.

There's still so much I can't do and haven't said to her as she's dragged out.

Once again my theory that it couldn't be worse is proved wrong as Logan is sent in by the Peacekeepers, "Hey Summer," he grins awkwardly, trying to work out what to say.

"There's something I wanted to do before I go," I whisper as Logan cocks his head to the side, clearly about to ask as I silence him by kissing him. I don't know if it's good or bad but all I know is that it's the only thing on my Bucket List I couldn't die without doing.

When we finally break apart, I see Logan's smiling but sad and I know how he's feeling. It's not just the happiest but the saddest moment of my life as I know it can never happen again but it's the only thing I want to do again in my life.

We don't speak, we just share our final moments together before I go off to die.

**Sorry if Summer's a little bit sappy here but it's sort of a last chance for her to deal with Stella, Logan and her mother before she has to leave for the Capitol and the Games where the tough-and-quick-tempered demeanour (as shown with Brenna) reappears. So while this is an element of her character enjoy it while it lasts.  
><strong>

**The tribute list is up (finally) and I'm away for a few days so this is the last update for a while.**

**I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far.**

**Sorry if there are any mistakes, please tell me and a reminder to self that I needs to stop writing these so late at night…**


	7. D5: Anywhere But Here

**I'm back again. But I'm soon to be back off holidays so the updates will get a bit slower. I hand wrote this chapter and had to type it up but mostly (while hand writing stuff without a computer) I started training, Games and planning so District 6 might not be up for a while.**

**For my future reference: should I do train rides yea or nay?**

**Once again: warn me about grammatical errors.  
><strong>

**Warning: Drug references. Not real drugs (morphling) but still the point needs to be made.**

**District 5: Apollo Crete**

The swings creak as I kick vaguely at the ground.

I know I'm not meant to think about where I came from but I don't see how I can't. I had a brother and there were lots of things I remember that don't fit: smoke, warehouses and a definite lack of builders.

I'm the only one around since it's the Reaping Day. All the little kids are being kept at home by parents, thankful that they're too young to be Reaped. My adoptive parents probably want me home too but I don't want to be there. It's too sad and I know they'll just worry about me more every time they see me.

Reapings aren't until 10am so most kids are probably making the most of a day off.

My friends definitely are, mucking around in the main village.

As afraid as I am of the Games, somewhere in the back of my mind is the idea that if I win the Games maybe I'll see my brother again. The big problem is the Games themselves. So much blood and death that I don't want to see, couldn't handle seeing. I hate being alone and I'm scared of dying.

I never want to go into the Games but at the same time I'd rather me than some little kid who'd never watched them and still didn't know what the Capitol could do.

Finally my morbidity is disrupted when a little kid appears tailed by a tired-looking mother who had the resigned look of a parent who's been badgered all morning until they gave in. As I jump off the swing I realise the kid was only about six. He probably doesn't even know what the Reapings were or why I hate each time my foot hits the ground more than the last.

I wouldn't force the Reapings on anyone else; I'd rather me than some poor little kid but I still wished they didn't happen at all.

I tried to convince myself the same thing I tried to convince myself every year; maybe we'd get lucky. Maybe District 5 would finally have another victor and all the food and fame it brought.

I never believed me.

**District 5: Josephine "Joey" Cox**

The sky's pretty this morning.

If only I had some paper. Maybe some colours too. My pencil is still behind my ear from last night but all my paper's used up.

There's the feather… Tina's cat… that dragon roof tile for the Capitol… Oooh I didn't finish that tree… wait it's that fish, I liked that fish… hey there's some paper… what did I want to draw?

Hey the sky's pretty…

I've just started the first cloud when Papa yells at me, "Come on Joey don't screw with me. Get up! Unless you _want _to be late for the Reapings?"

I shudder as I jump out of bed. If there's one thing I really hate it's the Reapings. The Games scenery is pretty but I don't want to see it for real.

Dave, Kyla and Leana don't have to worry about the Reapings. I know they're not real. It's just… nice to have people who don't worry about getting Reaped or their parents not giving a damn about them.

Must not think about Reapings.

They show me cool stuff to draw from their world; machines, clothes, animals, plants, whatever they/I can come up with.

Not today though.

My imagination is too panicked for them to come up with something nice for them to do so I block it out as I go to breakfast.

The table is deadly quiet as everyone eats. This is the only year we can all be Reaped. The first year for Freya, who wouldn't talk to me anyway, and Taylor's last yeas, not that he talks to anyone when he's stoned. Normally he's great- the best brother- but he smuggles morphling from District 6 to sell and on Reaping Day he uses it to get totally stoned. Mother works as the assistant to the assistant of a struggling building firm so I'm hardly surprised she's already at work, even on Reaping Day. Papa is stuck at home so he's wearing an old set of shorts and a loose T-shirt that makes his scrawny muscle look even more out of place than usual. I can't even draw him quite right and that's saying something.

When I finally leave the room I can feel the entire family relax slightly. Just because I don't want to live in a world where 23 kids die each year for sport, not counting freezing and starving in their own homes. My own little world is so much happier, my imaginary friends get to do whatever they want and get dessert every day.

I pull open my drawing box and rifle through, debating whether to take it to the Reapings or not. If I get Reaped I don't want to lose it… but I want to draw while I'm waiting for the speeches to finish.

Hey there's the perfect orange for the sun… Maybe I can just take my pencil… then again if I get Reaped my family might sell my art set.

I saved up for years to buy it but they always want to get rid of it for food. We have enough food but they want more. Food was temporary; you eat it, it dies and vanishes but art was forever and they aren't going to take away my art. When he wasn't stoned Taylor would say that art would die and vanish too if you ate it but he was only kidding.

Taylor actually likes my drawing. Sometimes he tells me things to draw things the… mushrooms show him.

Freya bursts in with her hair done up in a bun with her best clothes on and her eyes narrow before she yells at me, "Are you serious Joey? You're not even dressed? Now you're gonna make me late!"

I want to be Freya's perfect big sister but I'm just not. I've tucked my pencil behind my ear and I'm about to get up when she keeps yelling.

"You're not even listening to me are you? You never listen to me, you're always daydreaming. You don't even _try _to earn us money because you're too busy drawing. Not even architecture, it's always dragons and mythological creatures," she yells as she grabs my wrist and yanks me towards the door.

I want to reach for my drawing stuff but the thought is half-hearted because I want to be nice to Freya so I let her drag me to the Reapings.

Dave, Kyla and Leana follow me, trying to make me happy and I let them pull me into my dream world until the Reapings start.

**Apollo:**

The Reapings would be bad anyway but the crushing claustrophobia makes it so much worse. Feeling packed in with all the terrified people pushing around with you.

A kid next to me with a constant nervous twitch, sweating like a pig and jumping up and down looks pale so I pass him my drink bottle and he nods gratefully. Meanwhile I'm not much better.

I don't want to go to the Games.

I'm scared but at the same time I'm just as scared of someone else getting Reaped. I know my adoptive parents can't have kids but I can't imagine letting a little kid go to the Games for me to be safe.

The last 2 years it's been older kids but what if it isn't this year?

Not that I have time to worry as our moronic escort leaps onto the stage, grinning manically.

When it's not the Reapings I'm normally described as 'bubbly' but I've got nothing on the escort.

He isn't too long compared to other Districts but he speaks in a monotone and it makes him seem more mind-numbingly boring than the others. Not that the Capitol sees the escorts much but I don't get why they'd hire anyone that dull. I didn't even know it was possible to speak in a monotone that happily until I say him.

When he finally finishes I realise that I don't want him to stop. I don't want to hear the names of the next 2 people going to their deaths.

"Freya Cox," he calls as a 12 year old walks towards the stage.

I want to do something –anything- for her but I don't have to as a voice calls out from the crowd, "I volunteer!"

The girl that climbs up is the spitting image of the 12 year old who got Reaped… a cousin maybe? Sister?

In cases like this the younger sibling usually begs the older one not to go or tries hanging onto them but not this time. The younger one looks thankful but awkward and confused as she walks off the stage.

The escort wastes no time in digging out another name, "Prale Grate!"

A scrawny 12 year old follows the females' footsteps, alone up the stairs.

His foot hits the first step, no volunteer.

Second step no volunteers.

Final step and still no one moves.

"I volunteer!" a voice squeaks and it takes a moment to realise it's mine.

I can already imagine my new and old families sobbing as I die and a tear rolls down my cheek.

I don't want to die.

I'm scared.

**Joey:**

Freya and I go to the square together; Taylor's too stoned so his 'friends' are dragging him.

My friends, Dave, Kyla and Leana, are telling me I won't be Reaped and that it'll all be fine when we reach my age group. Freya's clearly annoyed I'm in my dream world again as she huffs and storms over to the 12 year olds by herself.

Hm… our escort's hair's a nice colour this year… sort of blue like the ocean.

His voice is boring though and he goes on… and on… and on. I don't know how the other Districts stand listening to their escorts about the 'pride and value of the Games' and they drone on even more.

Dave's put the escort's wig on and is mocking his speech- I didn't think it possible to be so happy and yet so monotonous- and I let out a small giggle as I get 'she's nuts' stares from everyone around me.

I swear I'm not nuts… I just like other places more than here where the sky's _always_ pretty and there's no Capitol.

Finally the escort steps towards the bowl. I'm not exactly happy about the Reapings but I've finished the sky and I want to go and draw using the colour of the escort's weird hair.

The name that's drawn shatters that little dream, "Freya Cox."

No… not Freya. I took all the tesserae for the two of us to keep her happy and make up for all the times my personality didn't.

Not Freya… Freya who has to deal with Taylor's… habits, Freya who started work at 10, Freya who's always so practical.

I can't let Freya go so I yell the only two words I can think of, "I volunteer."

Freya doesn't argue.

She seems shocked but she just lets me go.

I'm more distracted than usual as the boy's name is called. I can't believe that Freya's name was drawn, that I'm going into the Hunger Games. At least that means I get to see the Games scenery up close, now that I don't have a choice not to go.

Even with another volunteer I'm still out of it. It strikes me as odd that I see a tear roll down his cheek after he volunteered but I ignore it.

Leana tries to cheer me up, "Well we said _you _wouldn't get Reaped."

If she was real I would have throttled her.

Not only isn't my real world safe; now my dream world isn't either.

**Apollo:**

Rachel and Steve are crying when they arrive to say goodbye. I'm the only child they're ever going to have- they can't afford adoption, they just found me wandering in the woods.

I want to tell them that I'll come home, that we'll all be safe and rich in the Victor's Village but I can't form the words. All I want is to spend my last few moments in District 5 with my family- real or not.

"Why Apollo?" my mother asks in a hoarse whisper. It's nice to think of her as my mother at least once even if it's a lie.

"I couldn't just let that little kid die!" I shout. I don't mean to get angry but this should be my last time with my family and yet Rachel has to ask. The shouting just covers for more tears I try to choke back for Rachel and Steve's sakes if not my own.

Just make sure it's not in vain, Apollo. Come back to us please, just… come back," Steve covers over Rachel's potential outburst.

I nod, unable to speak through the tears and the terror.

As Rachel and Steve are led out of the room I wipe off the tears and try to compose myself as some of my friends are led in.

I try to grin and seem confident but my heart isn't in it. I think my friends realise but they're nice enough not to mention it.

Clay gives me a slap on the back and tells me I'm going to be great. His expression doesn't match his actions and I wonder if he's already thinking about how I'm going to die. Tyler looks at his feet and mumbles something about 'good luck' while avoiding my gaze. He's the smart one and if he thinks there's no hope for me then he's probably right. Dimen's famous for being hot-headed and obnoxious so he tries to give me some pointers on fighting but really I just fell more out of my depth than ever.

"Don't worry about me guys. Just don't watch, okay? I'll have a mentor and stuff. I hope you guys have nice lives. Just… remember me," by the end I'm close to tears again and they're all ushered out of the room by Peacekeepers.

I feel the most alone I've ever felt in my life as I'm escorted out as well.

Even as Joey, my District partner, is led out beside me as we're taken to the train I still feel totally isolated. Joey seems distant, but from what I've seen of her 'out of it' is her natural state of mind.

When I was little and first got found my Rachel and Steve I thought it was the worst moment of my life. I felt so lost without my family, my brother, in a strange District that was oddly loud and full of people in overalls.

Now was even worse. At least I'd had Rachel and Steve back then. This time I've lost my families, my friends, my life, everything.

I thought about smiling for the cameras on the way to the train but I don't want to give the Capitol what they wanted so I just glare.

Maybe if I'd at least seen the kid I volunteered for, knowing I chose to go to the Games would be somewhat better.

We're about to step onto the train when I see him and his mother being led from the Justice Building. So they did come to see me? Then why didn't they?

Knowing they came to see me makes me feel somewhat better but it only increased the ache for home pressing on my chest and the curiosity as to why I didn't see them.

Goodbye District 5.

Forever.

**Joey:**

My father visits first. I doubt my mother's going to visit at all. Normally I try to tell myself that she just enjoys work but I realise now that it's her way of escaping reality; I draw, she works.

"Why did you volunteer for Freya?" Papa asks, standing slightly apart from me.

"I thought Freya deserves it. I know I'm not like the rest of you, I just want to draw and Taylor wants to make trouble," I reply but it just makes him… confused? Angry? I want to go back into my own little world, to shut out real life but I force myself to concentrate.

"Don't ever convince yourself that we don't love you. I just don't understand you sometimes. Don't believe for a second that we won't be rooting for you the whole way, that we don't want you to come home," normally we're pretty distant but this is a hug moment and I finally let my imagination run away from the pain.

I imagine coming home to my family, to Taylor actually sober, to Freya actually happy to see me and Mother not at work. That I've won and live in Victor's Village with my own art room. The house is covered in flowers of different colours and I have a full set of paints, crayons, pencils, everything I've ever dreamed of.

The image shatters as he has to leave to be replaced by a still-thoroughly-stoned Taylor.

Morphling messes with your emotions and he's listless as he wanders into the room. I know he's going to be angry with himself when the drug wears off so I just give him a quick hug before writing a letter to his sober self with the pencil behind my ear.

I tell him to have a nice life and that if I don't come back it's the morphling's fault he didn't get to say goodbye. It's a cruel knife to twist but he needs to learn and I'm going to lose the rest of my life to tell him to go sober.

Finally I tell him I'm going to win for him and sketch me riding a dragon in a forest. Taylor likes my drawing so it's an excuse to zone out and draw before the Games.

Last is Freya.

"Um… thanks," she says awkwardly, "Sorry for yelling at you this morning."

"That's okay, just… make it worthwhile. GO get a job, get married, whatever, just remember I'm watching out for you," I reply, trying to cheer her up a bit.

"Thanks Joey," she whispers and I hold her while she cries before she goes.

As we walk to the train I'm back with Dave and Kyla as I start trying to think of a design for an armoured griffin to start drawing on the train… maybe gold?

**That was trippy… I was copying this off a hand-written page and I though I'd made a mistake and I realised I was about a sentence past where I thought I was and I'd written it perfectly…**

**Weird.**

**Until next time folks.**

**Ryder out.**


	8. D6: Sarcasm: The Only Wit of the Dying

**Sorry ****this**** took ****so ****long;**** I****'****ve ****been ****busy ****with ****exams ****and ****all ****that ****jazz.**** That ****sounds**** like**** an ****excuse ****so ****I****'****ll ****try ****to ****make**** it ****up ****to ****all ****my ****fabulous ****readers ****by ****getting ****District ****7**** done ****by ****tomorrow ****(no ****promises ****but ****I ****can ****promise ****I****'****ll ****try).**

**_EDIT: I KNOW I SAID I'D TRY AND I DID BUT I DIDN'T GET HOME UNTIL LATE (AS IN AFTER 8) AND I HAVE OTHER STUFF TO DO. I DID TRY AND I FINISHED 2 PAGES BUT I DON'T HAVE TIME TO DO 10. TOMORROW IT SHOULD BE DONE. I HOPE._  
><strong>

**As helpful as they are for writing the Games; Wolfgang's first sentence pretty much sums up my views on Reapings.**

**Don****'****t**** worry ****I**** haven****'****t ****abandoned ****this**** story.**** Or**** my ****old**** one,**** I**** just**** can****'****t ****pick ****a ****victor****: (****This**** time**** I****'****m ****making ****sure**** there****'****s**** a ****single ****victor ****who ****lives**** through ****the ****last ****day. ****No ****voting, ****someone ****will ****just ****survive**** the**** longest.**

**Deutsch is the German word for German.**

**Oh and thanks for all the awesome reviews from everyone, it's great to get good feedback on a story.  
><strong>

**District 6: Wolfgang Ardenne**

Ugh, Reapings…

I get why we have them and all, doesn't mean I don't hate them. With a passion. Sure work sucks and school's dull as all heck but amazingly kids getting picked to go die in some distant part of the country sucks more.

It's definitely the worst day of the year for my parents. They were an arranged marriage and had kids but never really loved each other. Basically they just live in the same house with us kids but they don't live _together_ per se.

On Reaping Day they both want someone to turn to while they fear that one of their children will get taken away but they don't love each other enough to turn to the other for support. So basically they just mope around the house while they hope I don't get Reaped; Mandie's still too young for which I'm thankful. She's young enough to still have that 'the world is made of sunshine and rainbows' outlook on the world.

Father is the one who woke me up and he now sits across the table from me in silence. I wish he'd at least say something. Making jokes is a lot easier when your father isn't staring at you silently. Especially when you look like him.

Sometimes his weird over-protectiveness is comforting but now it's just creepy so I wash off my plate and leave as quickly as possible.

Mother is sleeping in Mandie's room before Reapings so I leave in silence; the less Mandie knows about the Games and Reapings before she has to the better.

Jane is waiting for me outside the door but we walk in silence. That's a pretty weird occasion for me but neither of us feels like talking. I've had a crush on her since last autumn and that doesn't exactly get rid of any of the awkwardness surrounding us. Jane knows I'm going to volunteer this year; she also knows that there's nothing she can do about it.

Despite the face we put on for Mandie that everything's okay, it's not.

My parents can barely keep our heads above water and they refuse to let me drop out of school to work. As I help Kink, our next door neighbour, shift some of the crates in front of his shop, I can't help but think why not; I'm strong enough, totally funny enough, I'm a great guy but mostly I just really want to help out my family.

That's not the only reason I'm volunteering though.

Father has been training me with a 'sword' (basically just a piece of flattened, old piping) since I was six, preparing me in case I ever get Reaped, but I've always wondered if he somehow knew I'd volunteer one day. Dax Ardenne and his flat pipe swords are infamous in District 6. He sometimes trains kids late at night (and the parents pay him) in case they get Reaped but it still isn't enough.

No matter how bad I screw up at school; no matter how hard I try to flunk every class. One of my parents must have a deal with the teacher because nothing I do can get me expelled. A hate assignment on the Capitol; pivotal pages go missing and the word 'Capitol' became misspellings of the word 'rebels.' I even wrote an acrostic poem on 'I hate the Capitol, Snow sucks' and yet it became riddled with magical spelling errors that made it read 'I love the Capitol, Snow rocks.' I mean it wasn't even that imaginative on the part of the teacher.

Now I just try and make the most of school so I can get a better job when I graduate, but my heart's set on volunteering.

I need to show my father that I can survive in the real world and most importantly, make Mandie's (and Jane's) worlds a better place.

**District 6: Taryn Byers**

_Thunk._

_Thunk._

_Thunk._

Dammit. It's Reaping Day and still I get woken by the sound of knives slamming down onto chopping boards spreading through all two rooms of our house on top of the butcher's shop. Getting woken up by knives cracking through sides of meat isn't exactly uncommon for me but seriously? On _Reaping__Day_?

The one day I get off in the entire year and I still get woken up by the sound of meat getting massacred downstairs. It's not like we get to eat any of the bloody stuff.

I groan as I roll over and out of bed, it's not like I'm going to get any more sleep anyway. Most girls are probably obsessing over their hair and clothes but I just throw on a loose shirt as well as my apron and leather padded pants for working in the butcher's shop.

I yawn and stumble down the stairs to find my mother and father already chopping up the enormous sides of meat hanging from the ceiling. "Thanks for letting me sleep in guys," I grunt as I pick up a meat cleaver and an un-chopped pork belly Father's prepared.

"Come on now Taryn, what exactly do you expect us to do? We need to earn money for _you_ as much as us," Mother tries to appeal to my guilty conscience; yeah right, that's going to work even better this time than it did those other six million times you've tried it.

"Fine, whatever, I'll just cover myself in blood before the Reapings, that's totally fine with me," I mutter as I start hacking the meat apart, probably more viciously than I normally would. The knowledge that my moron of a brother the 'Mayor's Assistant' can't get Reaped this year, that his posh little 19 year old ass is sitting around in a comfy chair next to the mayor while I'm going to be crammed into the pens for slaughter like the pork I'm cutting up would have been only hours ago pisses me off.

If he'd been Reaped my life would be so much better instead of Mother and Father being disappointed that he left them to work for the mayor and is now rich, snobby and popular with the upper crust of the District. But no, I'm the one up early working and waiting for death.

Boy do I love my life.

**Wolfgang:**

Jolie is the only one of my friends who isn't up for Reapings this year, she turned 19 a few months back so she's panicking at my house and looking after Mandie like I asked her to. She's worried that I'm going to get Reaped. She doesn't need to be; there's no doubt that I'm going to be Reaped.

I can't wait to volunteer until next year; a good sickness now would be the end of Mandie let alone after a year of starvation.

Alloy's jumping up and down as we're in the queue for the Reapings. It's annoying but if I was less certain I'd probably be the same. Jane being by my side helps too. If only she knew…

I shove my hand on Alloy's shoulder so he can't bounce, "Come on Al, no one's gonna let you get Reaped when they could take someone taller and more handsome like yours truly," I grin as Alloy looks at me for a second before jack hammering out from under my hand.

"Yeah, but what about Mandie and your parents, Gang? You can't just volunteer for me," Alloy replies as he starts jumping in nervous circles. I doubt he'll be able to sign his name after how dizzy he'll be. Amazingly I don't think jumping in circles will help his nerves either.

Alloy knows me well enough to know I'd volunteer for him without a second thought but he doesn't know of my plans. Maybe when I come home safely I can talk him around. I hope.

I don't have more time to press my point as Alloy splits off to the 18s while Jane and I stand side by side at the front of the 17s section. Some part of me feels guilty for leaving her now, gripping onto the railing in front of our section and hoping I'll be safe, but the part that's determined to show my father I can deal with the real world is determined to show her too.

Squeezing her hand as we wait for the escort to show up I try to crack a joke, "Hey, Jane, if I'm ever in trouble all I have to do is paint myself brown and I'll look like a small tree," I stretch my arms out and she cracks a tiny smile, "Plus, what female will be able to resist an alliance if I use my... _Deutsch,_" I attempt (and fail drastically) to smoulder and she lets out a tiny giggle.

When our escort walks up, I'm at least happy that I've managed to make Jane happy before I go off to the Capitol. Failure isn't an option in my mind.

Although long speeches are infuriating, for once I wish District 6 had a droner so I had more time to prepare to volunteer.

Unfortunately ich glaube nicht. (Translation: **I**** don****'****t**)

I learnt German from my parents, something about knowing my 'proud German heritage.' Sometimes when I'm nervous I use it to try and avoid reality with something that doesn't exist any more but that makes people laugh. I'm fine with being laughed at; at least I'm not being boring.

When I hear a name called, I think I've missed my chance until I realise it's a girl. Byers… right, the butcher's daughter. So she'd be good with knives, maybe she'll agree to the usual district-partner-ally thing.

"Azar Rettin," a stocky but well built boy starts the march out of the 16s but there's no way I'm letting him get to the stage.

"I volunteer," I call as I step out of the 17s so that I have a clear path to the stage. Normally watching people look up to see me is funny but right now it's unnerving. Sure I'm excited to get to prove myself, but something about being singled out amongst your district is unsettling.

I shake hands with my escort then Taryn, my District partner, as we're shunted off to the Justice Building. I try to lighten the mood with the only form of wit worth using; sarcasm, "Can't wait for the 2 day train ride."

"Piss off," she replies icily.

Well that was nice of her.

**Taryn:**

Finally I manage to escape from the depressing claustrophobia of the butcher with the excuse of going to Reapings. To be honest I don't think the second option's any better.

Hale is waiting for me and huffs as I finally walk out the door after tossing my apron onto a hook. "Someone's early, I guess we'll just have to have a race to make sure we're at the square on time," she grins as she sprints off without another warning. I shouldn't really be surprised, she does it all the time, but on Reaping Day my heart really isn't in it.

Still, Hale needs the head start as I overtake her to sprint into the line to sign in for the Reapings a few feet before her. "Come on Hale, Reaping Day? Tiring me out's going to make getting Reaped so much better."

"You're not going to get Reaped," Hale tries to reassure me.

"Yeah, because my family can really afford to _buy_ all the oil for the meat," I reply and Hale knows I'm not joking this time. I'm deadly serious. Now Mr. Mayor's Assistant is out of the Reapings all the extra oil and grain tesserae falls to one Taryn Byers, "I'm screwed, you know it."

"Come off it Taryn, there's plenty of kids out there who've had to take tesserae way more than you," Hale tries to convince me but she's fighting a losing battle and she knows it; I raise my eyebrows and she shuts up as we split, I go to the 15s section and she traipses of to the 16s.

I get shunted aside by a girl from the front who's trying to hide near the back, "Yeah, push, it'll make you'll get home faster," I call, pushing her back as she scowls and try to ram me away. Finally I get sick of her trying to push past and I let her move but that just makes me more bored as I stand and wait for our joyous bundle of fun of an escort.

As he leaps up onto the stage I can tell he's on the way up; he runs through a short speech, has a smile plastered on his face and has an easy time ticking off the mentors. The ones on drugs. It's quite impressive.

Finally he rips out a name from the bowl and my world collapses around me, "Taryn Byers."

That's me. I was right, even though I wasn't serious about being certain to get Reaped I have been. I'm totally alone as I walk towards the stage.

I can almost feel the people moving away from me like a carrier of the plague. No one wants to get too close, to feel too sorry for the bitchy butcher's daughter. Even Hale stands her ground as I walk past, trying to speed my passing as I move towards the stage. I'm already feeling self-conscious about everybody staring at me without the walk seeming to take forever. The only thing that could make it worse would be an onslaught of moths. They scare the crap out of me.

Finally I'm shaking hands with our escort as he calls out a boy's name. "Azar Rettin," Azar appears to be a solidly built 16 year old and I'm already thinking that I have no hope when someone calls out form the audience, "I volunteer."

I've never met the kid that walks up but I know him. He's the son of the legendary Dax Ardenne, the man responsible for training District 6's only victors in the last 30 years. If I thought Azar was worrying, he's nothing compared to Wolgang Ardenne. Six foot six, long blond hair and calloused skin, I know that if anyone from District 6 is coming home it isn't me.

Hale can complain I'm too negative all she likes, I'm looking at a decently-trained, six foot six guy who's going to try and kill me. I don't want to die, that would suck, but I'm still screwed.

"Can't wait for the 2 day train ride," Wolfgang mutters sarcastically as we're led into the Justice Building.

"Piss off," I mutter in reply as we're led to separate rooms.

**Wolfgang:**

I didn't think about Alloy's reaction until the moment before he opens the door. I can imagine the look of disappointment on his face as he knows I've left him and Mandie to risk my life in the Games.

The only thing worse than imagining the look is seeing it mirrored on his face.

"Hey, Wolfgang," he says blandly as he walks in, no element of swagger or hyperactivity in his stance, "Didn't want to die the hard way?"

"It's not that," I reply quickly, before thinking of the rest of the reply. I could lie to him but I try to cheer him up, "I need the money for my family, you know that. Besides, I've trained with my father and what's some big lump of muscle going to go against my brains and amazing German skills?"

Alloy doesn't crack a smile. That's bad.

"Can't you ever be serious? This could be your _death_ Wolfgang!" using my real name, _really_ bad sign.

"Come on Alloy, no Capitol with their green hair and their blue… well blue skin is going to stop me from getting back here, no pretty girls either, I promise."

"I know you're an 'every cloud' kind of guy but this is serious Gang, you could _die_. Can you not fit that into your moronic little skull?" he asks exasperatedly but he's led out by Peacekeepers before I can answer.

No good luck. No good bye. More of a bad bye really.

Jolie and Jane come together, probably planning to support each other but I end up with two howling females sobbing on my shirt. I wonder if little miss angry next door has the same problem.

"Don't worry about me, just look after Mandie. Don't let her watch. I'm on holidays in another District or something, yes? I'll be all buff and showered with love by the time I get back to District 6. After all, how could they resist six foot six of pure Wolfgang? They'll be head over heels to sponsor me. Then again they seem to spend most of their time that way."

It doesn't stop the howling so I just join a group hug and try and comfort them until my family's led in. The part I was least looking forward to.

My mother is trying to hold in her tears in front of Mandie while Father just claps me on the back and wishes me well. I can't read his expression, but then again I never can.

I can tell that Mother is upset though; one thing she always worries about Father is that he'll 'ruin' us with his training and over-protectiveness and all she sees is her nightmare coming true. Still all she can say is good luck while Mandie hugs my leg. The only consolation is that she doesn't know where I'm going.

"Gangy, why can't you stay here with me?" Mandie asks.

"Gangy has to go to the Capitol for a little while; he'll try and bring you back some presents, okay?" I ask, kneeling down to be level with her face. She's called me Gangy since she was about three and normally it's cute but now it's just depressing. There might be no more Gangy soon.

No. I'm going to win.

I'm going to prove to my father that I can make it.

As my family's led out I promise myself that Gangy's going to come home to Mandie.

**Taryn:**

My prat of a brother is first.

"I hope you do well in the Games Taryn and represent our family with honour," he sniffs as he stands in the room and I just glare. The nerve of him to come in here to tell me not to dirty the family name. I'll dirty his name in a minute. Becoming suddenly infertile might not hurt his career but his voice might notice a sudden lack of testosterone.

"Go away Toby," I reply, clenching my fists as he raises his nose into the air.

"Fine, I was going to wish you good luck but I suppose you don't need any with an attitude like that," he turns on his heel and leaves before the Peacekeepers escort him out. Good or I'd be escorted to the train in handcuffs for killing the mayor's assistant.

Hale breaks into tears, crying and wishing me luck and choking out tiny phrases about how I'll make it and be a hero.

"Yeah, because I can totally stand up to a six foot six sword fighter even without the other Districts pitching in," I snap back but Hale knows that I'm not totally hopeless, there's still a tiny spar that maybe I could win. Normally I give in easily but there's no way I'm giving into the Games. I'm not letting them beat me.

"You can do it Taryn, I believe in you," Hale whispers before breaking into fresh hysterics and finally being yanked out of the room after overstaying the Peacekeepers' first warning.

Finally my mother and father enter. Mother makes me promise to try my hardest to come home and that if I don't she'll make my mentor send me a smack on the back of the head from her. As if that can be easily transported. Still, I know she's covering up her feelings as she steps back to allow Father to give me a hug.

"You can do it Taryn, you're good with knives and you know what to do for food. Never give up hope, we'll be waiting for you," he whispers as I get a final hug before the Peacekeepers escort them out.

Finally I'm totally alone, not even surrounded but distant like in the Square but totally and utterly alone. There's no one I can trust but myself, nothing I can do but hope for the best.

Still, I refuse to let myself give up on this. Normally Hale complains that I never change but the Games aren't going to best me.

Suddenly getting woken up every morning by the thunk of knives sounds awfully nice.

**I wasn't going to do the train rides but then I remembered I'm racing laralulu to finish my SYOT before her and if she did it and I didn't that's not really fair. Feel free to vote on her profile and check out her SYOT.**


	9. D7: Protection

**I lied… I did try to finish the chapter the next day but I had no time… I'm up late enough finishing it tonight as it is.**

**Yes, I know it's fun but I'd feel guilty if I skipped a part. Woo, still winning!**

**I decided to make Sean and Kaya acquaintances, although not quite friends, because I think it would make the Games more interesting if some of the tributes knew each other.**

**Sean's Reaping is a touchy subject so please tell me if I've over-stepped the line, some of it is meant to be social commentary on Panem at its worst but if I've gone too far please warn me.**

**District 7: Sean Dorsin**

District 7 wakes up at 5 am, whether it's Reaping Day or not. I know some of the other Districts start work in factories and mines later in the day when it's light but that doesn't matter much in District 7. All that matters is working.

For the District 7 kid who isn't great with an axe, that's not all that much fun.

Since my aunt and uncle still don't seem to have changed their opinion that I'm a random moocher in their house instead of their nephew. I don't really mind, they've got a son already and they can't be expected to stretch money, which is already tight, further than letting me sleep in their little wooden cabin.

Even though we chop 100% of Panem's wood in District 7, we still have to pay to get the wood sent to District 5 and then sent back as a cabin. Like the Capitol cares about our welfare; they just want the money. Not that I'm complaining, if paying a lot for a house means the Peacekeepers don't look at me twice I'm fine. You hear… stories about the Peacekeepers.

I'm also fine with having to get a second job if it means I can buy food for myself, it's just tiring sometimes.

So even though I get to spend most of my day with Graia, I still have to traipse across town to another lumberjack for my evenings. Sure Kaya's nice enough and she covers for the fact that I'm not really great with an axe, but if I'm too shy to start a conversation it gets awkward.

In my day job Elm, the overseer, learnt that giving me an axe was a waste so I'm the hunter of our logging group, anything comes in a ten metre radius and we eat it for dinner.

With the smaller lumberjack across town I'm just another logger and that's where I'm headed this morning.

It's mostly the adults working today since it's Reaping Day but they need even pairs working on each tree so I volunteered while Kaya and the other kids get the morning off. It's not a huge deal because I need the money but it means I'm going to stink out the square whenever I finally get there.

I'm cutting down an enormous pine tree with Yew, my mind on the Reapings and hoping that I won't get Reaped this year combined with the fact that I'll have 4 more years after this and my chances will only get worse, when suddenly he sticks his head out from around the other side of the tree, "Hey, Sean! Shouldn't you be going to the Reapings?"

"Yeah, sorry!" I shout to my boss as I sprint back towards the main village. I feel horrible for running off on him, I want to apologise properly and then go to Reapings but I'm too scared.

I'd rather get Reaped than face whatever punishment the Peacekeepers have in store for anyone who doesn't go to the Reapings.

Anything but the Peacekeepers.

**District 7: Kaya Lambert**

For one day of the year I don't have to get out of bed until after 5 am. It's a total conflict of interest because it's Reaping Day but I love sleeping in so much that it almost makes it worth it.

_Almost_.

Nothing can make it really worth it.

Nothing can make watching kids sent off to their deaths, hoping against hope it won't be Sophie or Alana, worthwhile.

I'm not afraid of me having to go to the Games. I'm not scared of facing the Games myself. That isn't my problem.

My problem is everyone else that I can't be brave for.

Still, at least the sleep in can provide some sort of light to a day of darkness. I feel sort of sorry for Sean, he's quiet and a bit weird but he's nice enough and volunteered to get up early and help out instead of me. At least I know he needs the money.

Now, I have to get up and all the joys of getting a few hours more sleep are lost as I yawn and smash my head on the wall as I realise I've been woken up by Alana leaning over my bed.

I've heard that other Districts have houses with several rooms, different ones for different people. I wish; our house is basically a one room hut smelling strongly of pine needles with bunk bed shelves screwed into the walls. There's zero privacy as I switch into the only skirt I own and a shirt that I'm yet to shred to pieces on the trees where I work.

Despite Alana doubling over with laughter at my reaction to her waking me up, breakfast is a sombre affair. Sean donated most of a bush turkey from the forest since he doesn't need a whole turkey to eat alone before the Reapings. As I said; weird kid. Not in a bad way, he's just overly kind and doesn't have too many friends or human interaction other than his 'just a friend' Graia and myself. I can't see him in the Games; he'd probably try to give people weapons when he fought them if he thought the fight was unfair.

It didn't make breakfast any less depressing as Alana wears an old skirt of mine and my mother glances at us anxiously while Zoe seems to be trying to comfort Alana despite being 5 years younger; she shouldn't even have to worry about the Games.

Mother apologises profusely when she has to go to work; she runs a tiny store which sells paper and notebooks to the logging firms. Some days I help but days like today it's impossible.

When I point out to Alana that we can't wait it out any longer I stand up and walk out the door she follows reluctantly as we send Zoe off to the shop to help Mother. Father died 4 years ago so that's all we have to do as we lock up. It occurs to me that this might be the last time I ever lock up the house with Alana as we meet Sophie along the way.

As I watch them talk, their words rolling past my ears without really being picked up, I can't help but wonder; would they be able to deal with it if I was Reaped? Would they even notice the absence of the quiet Kaya if I vanished?

I would volunteer for them without a second thought.

Still I think; does everyone wonder what would happen if they died on Reaping Day?

**Sean:**

Despite breaking into a dead sprint to reach the square in time I can see the Peacekeepers closing the book to sign even as I'm within five metres of it.

I'm terrified of so much as touching the Peacekeeper as I snatch up a pen and manage to sign the final book before sprinting into the 14s area and almost skidding to a halt beside Graia as she raises a single eyebrow, still standing stock still and facing towards the stage. Nether of us wants to attract the attention of the Peacekeepers.

"Nice timing," she mutters under her breath before adding, "You stink."

I just smile slightly as our escort blathers on about the fantastic opportunities provided by the Games and how we should all be proud to represent our District.

My thoughts are distracted by the feeling of Graia next to me, making me feel slightly happier even if it is dulled by eau-du-Sean, as the mayor begins his speech listing our victors including our most recent, a young man named Blight who is leaning on his hand with a slightly frustrated expression.

Finally, the escort returns to draw the female name from the huge glass bowl, "Kaya Lambert."

If I could volunteer for females I would… but I just can't. I couldn't bring the ire of the Peacekeepers on myself and I'm just not allowed to.

So instead I have to watch as my tree-lopping partner walks towards the stage and ultimately her doom. I have to try and convince myself not to hope for volunteers because I don't want anyone else to die either. I have to watch as the escort shakes her hand cheerily and she looks stoically out at the assembled kids.

"Bark Liefs," the escort calls and you can physically feel the sighing of the audience.

Barking Mad Bark. The mentally disabled kid who doesn't even seem to understand what's happening and he claps when his name is called. I believe that an older kid will volunteer to try and save the poor crazy kid who can't save himself.

No one does.

In a way it seems that they're happy that the disabled kid is going to get Reaped. It deals with him without any one actually doing anything, no more worrying about him as he dies in some strange arena; better him than one of the 'normal' people.

When he doesn't go to the stage the Peacekeepers drag him into the aisle so he fights back.

So do they.

I can't stand watching the kid get beaten up; knowing I could save him from being the mentally disabled boy who was beaten to death on Reaping Day.

So I volunteer.

It seems so simple but as I walk towards the stage it seems so complicated. I can't imagine killing another person, least of all to save myself. Having to fight against Kaya, my tree-felling buddy. Seeing Graia's face as I walk towards the stage next to Kaya and the escort. I can see the shock in Kaya's eyes but I also know that I had no other choice. I couldn't live with myself if I did anything else.

Finally, Kaya and I shake hands and we turn and get pushed into the Justice Building.

Seeing Bark with his family at least makes me feel a last small burst of warmth.

**Kaya:**

The walk to the main square might be pretty to someone from another District. Towering pines, little cottages made of huge logs stacked to create walls and the smell of fresh, burning wood but all it makes me think about is how long it's going to take me and Sean to cut down one of those pines tomorrow.

All the same, it's home and I never want to leave it.

When Alana breaks off to go to the 15s section, Sophie and I are left but before we try and squeeze into an over-packed 16s area we're met by Liam. Tall, dark and handsome he's the son of the lumberjack I work for with Sean. He grins as he sees us but it's his grin at Sophie that brings back my question; would they really miss me as much as anyone else if I died?

Still, he wishes us luck as he heads off to the 17s as Sophie and I shuffle into the 16s as I push some kids out of the way to make room for us.

As the escort is approaching the stairs I hear thundering footsteps, sprinting up the beaten dirt path near the entrance Sophie and I are standing next to. Sean comes sprinting in, sliding into place as the escort reaches the podium. Probably out saving puppies from trees or apologising for not being at work.

Sophie is giggling at our escort's habit of bouncing every few words and I'm holding in a smirk as he draws the girl's name.

"Kaya Lambert."

Everything freezes for a second before I put my foot in front of me to step towards the stage. The jolt of my foot making contact with the ground breaks into my reverie slightly as I try to compose myself on the way to the stage. Some part of me is relieved that it isn't Alana or Sophie and I somehow hold on to that tiny shred of happiness as I climb the steps.

I can feel hundreds of eyes on me but I ignore them as I try to wipe my face of emotion as I shake the hand of the escort. The only cohesive thought I have; at least it isn't Sophie or Alana.

That wasn't the only thing on my mind as the next name was drawn, "Bark Liefs."

The mad kid.

In some sick way I can understand why no one volunteers. It's just… easier this way, no matter how horrible it's what our society has come to just to survive.

Then I hear the voice that calls, "I volunteer."

It isn't Liam.

That doesn't make me much happier because it's Sean.

Always playing the hero.

He walks up to the stage with his head held high and the martyr expression I know all to well etched upon his face.

I want to protect everyone- Alana, Liam, Zoe, Mother, Sophie and even my logging partner Sean.

So how am I meant to do anything when I have to kill him to survive?

**Sean:**

I wasn't expecting to see anyone for the goodbyes so I'm surprised when the door first opens.

Graia is sobbing, her tears wetting my stinking shirt as she hugs me like a sloth to a tree. "Sean…" she whispers through sobs. Nothing else, just my name through a sheen of tears.

I wonder whether I should tell her about my feelings as I hold her, to tell her that I'm really in love with her.

When she leaves five minutes later I wonder if I'll regret that time.

Not because of what I said; but because of what I didn't.

I didn't tell her. I just held her as she cried and tried to tell her that it would be all right and that I would come home nice and safe in a few weeks. I let her lean on me through her tears, held her until the Peacekeepers were about to drag her away.

Then I just let her go.

I've seen 'girls back home' done so many times before and yet all I know is that it makes it infinitely worse when they don't come back. Dewira Gris is… was my next door neighbour and she fell in love with Bramble Stien.

He never came back and nor did her mind.

I try to visit her and keep her company but apparently I remind her of him and every little thing sets her off. So much as a step outside will cause her to drop into a ball and rock until someone puts her back inside.

So I didn't tell Graia and she may never know, but that's the way I want it to be.

My next surprise visitors are my aunt and uncle.

They know we're not close and that I don't respect them like parents but still, it's nice to know they came. Another person might think they want to reap the spoils if I win but I don't believe anyone would do that.

My aunt passes my glasses and says, "Here, you need a District token and you never know when you might need to be able to see a bit better in the," she gulps, "In the arena."

I just nod in thanks. I don't know what to say to the family I haven't talked to in years and I'm too shy to say anything in case it makes them upset so I just accept a hug from each of them and we part awkwardly to say the least.

Finally, when I don't think the doors are going to open again until I'm being led out, they swing one last time to reveal the parents of Bark Liefs.

"Thank you," his mother whispers, almost as if she's already at my funeral, "I don't know what I'd do without B-Bark and everyone else just watched."

She breaks down and is held by the man, her husband, as he finishes, "We can never thank you enough for this, so all we can do is wish you good luck. We'll be cheering for you."

When they leave, I'm finally alone.

Clearly Kaya still has visitors because I have enough time to think.

How am I meant to win the Games for Graia, my uncle and aunt and even Bark's parents so they don't feel guilty that I died for their son?

I've killed animals while hunting without much thought; I need food for myself since my uncle and aunt never exactly stretched themselves to help me out. People are different though. People you can talk to. Laugh with. Get to know them, their history and their families.

How am I meant to kill someone when I can't so much as pass someone a knife by the blade?

**Kaya:**

First up is Liam and Sophie and I can see from the way that they come in that Liam was holding her only a second before they entered the room.

I can tell they think that they think holding hands will make me feel unhappy but on the contrary it's nice to know that me going to the Games instead of them means that they'll be able to hold hands for the rest of their hopefully long and prosperous lives.

"Come on guys, it'll be okay. I'd rather it was me than you," I try and console Sophie as she grips onto me in the roughest bear hug I've ever had and Liam joins in to make it one big group hug.

"D-d-don't die Kaya, I don't want you to go," Sophie chokes, "How will you handle being all alone in the arena?"

That's problem number 1: fear of being alone. Problem number two? I can't bear the thought of _not_ coming back to them, even if I'm willing to go into the arena and kill rather than let one of them do it instead. "I won't leave you guys, I promise. Someone needs to be here to protect you and I'm not going to let it be anyone but me."

Liam smiles weakly at me as the two of them hold hands to be led out of the room.

When my family enters the room, I'm not sure what's worse; Zoe, Alana or Mother.

Zoe hugs my leg and tries to convince me not to go, "Please, Kaya, tell them you can't go. I need you to take me to school and teach me how to chop down trees. You can't go to the Games…"

Yes I can Zoe. But I can't tell my 10 year old that her big sister can't _not_go and she might not make it back and I refuse to let myself believe for a second that I won't be able to come back for Zoe.

She won't let go of my leg as I hug Alana and try to tell her it'll all be okay but no matter how much she seems like my best friend, she's a little sister too and she doesn't want to let me go. I can see tears building in her eyes as she turns away from me and tries to hide them and disguise the sadness in her eyes but it's too late; I've seen it.

I can't bear the thought of my family shedding these tears again; of me not coming back and of my family sobbing over my broken body.

Finally I turn to my mother. She hasn't been the same since Father died but this s only making it worse. I can see the turmoil in her eyes as she gives me a quick hug and then dashes out of the room when the Peacekeepers open the doors, clearly distraught and I have a strange mental image of my mother and Dew drinking their sorrows away.

Crap…

I want to be still here to protect them; I don't want to be so far away, to be unable to reach them.

I don't want to be away from them… forever.

**Once again sorry this is late, I had no time during the week but I can maybe make up for it by doing District 8 now.**


	10. D8: Black and White Manipulation

**If you're wondering why I made District 8 miserable, it's cannon with my other story The History of a Coin. Read it if you want or don't because it's kinda bad.**

**I hate being mean to old people in stories…**

**I hope the Doctor Who fans like one of the names. I ran out of ideas and had been watching Sci-Fi the night before.**

**Also: sorry if Blaze's 'ladies man' thing turns out weird; I'm a straight female so writing as a guy trying to hit on loads of females and his girlfriend doesn't exactly work for me.**

**District 8: Blaze Valentine**

Most people dread getting up for the Reapings and I definitely count myself among their 'happy' number.

Not so much for myself even though I would _hate_ to get Reaped; not just because of the risk of dying in the Games but the risk of having to kill little kids. I love little kids, but none more than my brother who vanished years ago. He's the reason I hate Reapings. Wondering if I'll see his face on the screen, if I'll even recognise my little brother 10 years on if he was Reaped, knowing it was my fault he ran off. I was meant to be looking after him but I was too busy playing a game to watch him properly.

I don't even know if he's alive but I try to cling onto the faint hope that maybe he's still alive, somewhere out in another District.

My mother and I live alone now in a small flat in District 8.

That's how life is in District 8; the Capitol wants almost every square metre to be warehouses if they possibly can so they cram us all into tiny apartments stacked up in the centre of town. There are expensive houses and the Victor's Village but otherwise it's all just apartments.

Outside isn't much better.

Even wrapped up in a trench coat which is missing a collar and thick sweater with buttons I'm still chilly and covered in mud. Part of the Capitol's motivation seems to be that if we can't make our own clothes and we only get the screw-ups that we'll make everything well enough to keep us warm if it doesn't go to the Capitol.

District 8 would seem lifeless to anyone from another District, grey, cold and filled with mud and damp, dull warehouses but the people give it a semblance of life.

Little kids running in the street, people in the brightest Capitol screw-ups trying to sprint between buildings without being seen in ridiculous costumes and the slow trundling of carts filled with clothes; it seems like home.

I can't imagine leaving the District for anything and I can't imagine what it would be like for my little brother in another District.

I get jumped on from behind and I barely manage to hold myself after stumbling forward with the added weight of my girlfriend. Dria is smaller and lighter than me, the Capitol knows it doesn't take much energy to work a factory so we don't get much in the way of food, but I still have to exert myself to carry her.

"Hey Dria," I say, grinning over my shoulder at her.

"Hey Blaze," she replies, smiling, but she's interrupted by some guys walking the other way.

"Yo Blaze, how's it going?"

"Hey Blaze, enjoying the day off?"

"Yeah!" I shout back across the street as they walk off.

"Why do you have to be so famous?" Dria grumbles from her position on my back.

"I'm just too irresistible," I smile, "But you'd know all about my charms, wouldn't you?" Dria scowls slightly before laughing and hugging my neck some more. I'm considered the ladies man of District 8. Apparently a series of steady girlfriends doesn't make a difference and all of the guys think I'm a hero because of it.

"Hi Blaze," a bunch of girls giggle as they stop and wave.

"Hey ladies, you liking the weather?" I grin, pointing at the grey and cloudy sky.

They giggle again as they run off but Dria jumps off my back and when I turn around, she's not even remotely amused and she gives me a death stare before storming off down the street.

"Come on Dria, I was just kidding!" I yell after her, but she still ignores me and continues walking.

Shit.

**District 8: Piper Lyonz**

I have to get up at 7am on Reaping Day because of my parents. Not because they're here but because they aren't.

My parents split up when I was 9 and my little brothers were 4 years old. My father left and did whatever the hell he wanted leaving my mother to care for us alone.

Then she killed herself on my 10th birthday.

It put a bit of a downer on celebrations. To put it unbelievably freaking lightly.

I'm certain my father knew what had happened within a few days. I spent weeks waiting for him to show up again, to come charging through the door like he did when I was younger and tuck me into bed.

He never did.

My father never came back for me or even for Ves and Tison.

Some days I see him around in the District. He has new kids now. They just turned 8. They had a big birthday party with their mother and heaps of other kids from the District. 'Father' made them a small cake with materials he brought from a shop.

Ves and Tison's birthday was a week ago. I made them a cake from tesserae flour and made sure they didn't take any before their first Reapings. The only guest was their friend Lin who lives a few floors down. She's chirpy and obnoxious but she reminds me of what I could have been when I was 12 if not for my parents and a good influence on the rowdy Ves and Tison.

Most years I wake Ves and Tison up before taking them down to Mrs. Textil on floor 3 whose kids have moved out of home but I get a jolt as I realise that this year they're going to Reapings with me.

I get them dressed in their best pocket-less track pants and zipper-free jumpers as they mumble and wipe sleep out of their eyes.

A knock at the door causes my head to snap up as I dart towards the door, grabbing a knife from the rack that I keep next to the door, the opposite side of the room from the kitchen and next to my bed.

As I open the door I quickly slip the knife behind me when I realise that it's Lin and her flustered looking mother who is gripping her hand tightly with a nervous expression on her face. "I wanted to take her to Reapings myself since it's her first time but my boss says he needs me at work right now because of a machinery accident. I know your… boys are good friends of hers so I was wondering if you could take her with you. She's all ready to go; you just have to walk with her."

"Sure," I reply, using the syrupy voice I use when talking to adults. Kids I don't care about, they're just weak and they can't do anything; can't stop their mother from killing herself. Adults on the other hand are useful, "I'll take her down soon, we were just about to have breakfast."

"Thank you," she says as she hugs her daughter and sprints down the stairs.

Now she owes me a favour; more food, looking after the boys, whatever works. Collecting favours is one thing that makes life easier; having people owe me for things so I can use them to do work I don't want to. It's like the tale of the little boy and the red paperclip that traded the red paperclip until he bought a house. I do a little favour and someone else gives me a bigger one. It means I don't have to do all the work fending for myself.

I'm owed a second job the moment I turn 18 and I've secured Ves and Tison jobs in return for hiding the incriminating files of a kid in the District whose father owns a loom factory.

It's a nice enough life.

Except for the one thing beyond my control; the Reapings.

**Blaze:**

"Come on, Dria!" I shout as she storms through the queues to sign into the Reapings, "You know I wasn't serious, it's just a habit! DRIA!"

It's to no avail as I slump against a warehouse wall with my head in my hands. I need to get to Reapings but I'd rather just stay here and thump my head on the wall for being so stupid. _Don__'__t__overreact__or__anything__Dria,__it__'__s__not__like__I__don__'__t__do__that__all__the__time__or__anything._

I get joined by some of my entourage as we head towards the books to sign in. "Hey, Blaze, do you reckon you would be able to win the Games?" one of the 14 year olds asks as I flex a little for their enjoyment.

"The Games? Sure, they'd be a pushover. Have you seen me trying out with those wooden swords? I bruised Davros," I grin vacantly, still thinking about Dria. Davros is meant to be one of the toughest guys in District 8 but the day I smashed him with a wooden sword was the day I earned the District's respect.

When I finally manage to get into the square I grin, 'call me' and wave my way through a huddle of girls to get to Dria who immediately tries to shuffle away from me. "Dria, you know I was kidding."

"Well go kid somewhere else and piss off, I don't want to look at you," I turn on the puppy eyes as she growls, "No puppy eyes. Go away."

She keeps trying to shuffle through the crowd as our escort walks onto the stage and starts blabbering about the joyous opportunities of the Games and how proud we should be to enter them. Personally I can think of a lot better things to be proud of.

"Dria I'm_sorry_," I hiss as she reaches the edge of the 17s section. We get glared at by a girl near the edge as I push her out of the way to follow Dria.

"Piper Lyonz!" the escort suddenly shouts, apparently she thought it would be funny to spring the announcement on us. All I can say is that I'm glad it isn't Dria, ending our fight by her Reaping would be almost too awful to comprehend.

There was something I forgot.

What was it?

The boy's name.

Blaze Valentine.

**Piper:**

Ves, Tison and Lin are talking the whole way to the Reapings, seemingly unaware of what the Games really mean. They know enough, they've watched them happen and yet it seems they don't really understand the full horror of the Games.

As I'm about to close the door, I grab one of the knives as a sudden afterthought, shoving it into my jacket. It never hurts to be prepared.

I could train them with the knives next to the door or the bow and arrows taken from the dead rebel in our air vent but there's nowhere to teach them. So long as I know how to use them at the very least I'll be safe in the Games, but I still feel a twinge of doubt about not teaching them. Anyone but the twins and I wouldn't give a damn but they're like my babies, not my brothers. Plus they're vegetarians so I've never needed to hunt for them or teach them how to.

A cart is trundling past ahead of us, mashing up the ground and I have an idea that will save us the walk to the square, "Excuse me sir!" I call as the person driving the cart turns to face me, "I'm sorry sir, but could I please have a ride? My brothers and I are cold and it's a long walk to the square and I'm awfully worried that they'll not make it in time."

The old man smiles slightly and replies, "Sure, I was heading that way anyway and you kids can just hop in the back."

"How much will it cost?" I ask as the old man shakes his head.

"No charge, it's always nice to help out young ones such as yourself," he replies cheerily.

"I couldn't leave without paying you. How about three dollars?" I ask. He doesn't know that it's his own three dollars but it leaves my rule unbroken; never owe anyone a favour. No matter how many you are owed, never give someone else power over you.

"No, no, it'll be fine," he says, shaking his head but I keep the coins proffered until finally he says, "Oh well, if you insist."

"I insist, you're doing us a favour, it's the least I can do," I reply as we continue our journey over the muddy footpath without my feet getting the tiniest bit soggy.

When we finally reached the queue to sign in, it was barely 11.30 and the queue was tiny. I smiled at the old man driving the cart and jumped off with Ves, Tison and Lin in tow as we signed in.

I delivered Ves, Tison and Lin to the 12s section before moving to the mostly empty 17s section. By 17 years of age most kids know how to get to the Reapings 5 minutes early without too much difficulty.

A tall, skinny girl is standing against one corner of the section, where I normally stand alone.

When I march up to her, she just glances at me before picking her nails, "This is reserved, go stand somewhere else."

I pull the knife from my jacket as I growl, "Unless _you_ move, standing arrangements will be the least of your worries."

The girl looks terrified as she sprints to the other corner of the holding pen and I smirk, stuffing the knife back into my jacket. It's always nice to let off some steam after being nice to adults.

When the escort starts to talk, two of the kids in the 17s start having an increasingly loud argument and they almost shove me out of the section. I'm about to push back when I realise a name's been called, "Piper Lyonz."

Shit. There aren't two of me are there? It would be awfully nice to finish killing the two idiots _before_ going to my death.

I walk up to the stage, smirking confidently as the District glares at me. They probably think I look happy. No way am I _happy_but I'll live. No one else is going to look after the twins. That's going to be me. Always. No one else can ever be their mother, no matter how hard they try. Nothing can stop me from winning. I would kill and die a million times for my little brothers, the only real family I have. My 'father' is no father of mine or of Ves and Tison.

Next up is the boys. "Blaze Valentine," who was chasing his girlfriend around the 17s section comes up to the stage, a fake grin plastered charmingly on his face. If I could pull off that face I'd be set for life.

I know of him. He's the District 8 poster boy; most of his jobs are _modelling_ clothes for the Capitol before they're mass produced. He probably doesn't even know how to change a conveyor belt and I'll bet he earns more than I do. Everyone love him, attractive, sporty and charming, he's even better at manipulating people than I am and for all the right reasons. I would go for the flirtatious angle when I need a favour, but that would involve being _nice_to people.

Damn being nice, the Games are about being bad.

**Blaze:**

I'm still stunned as I'm led into the Justice Building. I was so worried about Dria that I didn't think of myself, of going into the Games.

I don't want to have to kill anyone, let alone the little kids.

When the door first opens, it isn't Dria or my mother, but instead it's a gaggle of female admirers who are squealing with anticipation. "Oh Blaze, when you win you'll be… like… rich! And live in the Victor's Village and be all well-fed and fit!"

I grin back but really I just feel drained of energy by the announcement that I'll be going to my potential doom in the arena, "Sure will, ladies," I flick my hair across my face, "I'll bring you all a special present," I wink as they all scream, hug me and twitter out when the Peacekeepers start herding them. I swear one of the Peacekeepers even gave me a jealous glare. It reminds me of the morning, joking to Dria that 'I'm just too irresistible.'

It seems like a lifetime away, chatting to Dria and giving her a piggyback through the streets.

Next are all the guys that follow me around.

I don't know which is more infuriating when all I want to see is my family; the tittering obsessions of the girls or the adoring glances of the boys.

"Yo Blaze, you're gonna smash them aren't you?"

"Yeah, Blaze, show 'em who's boss!"

"Blaze, you're the best there is, no way are they going to beat you!"

I grin and punch the air, "Yeah, I'm going to show them all in a Blaze of Glory!" It sounds pathetic but all of the guys cheer and wish me good luck.

When my next guest comes in, I'm about to start breaking things. They all think I'm going to win, that I'm good enough to beat the Careers and all the other tributes out there. No one volunteered for me; they all think that I can really win, that all it takes is a few plucky blows against Davros to make me a brilliant fighter. It isn't just luck that brought me here; in some sick form of karma, it's my pride that has been my downfall. Sucking up the adulation which wasn't due and thinking I would be the best forever.

So when I realise it's Dria, my heart almost freezes over.

"Hey Dria," I say, not bothering to fake excitement or joy at facing my death.

"Hey Blaze, I'm sorry I yelled at you, I was just annoyed, you've always ot followers and smiling at all those females, I'm sorry," she gushes as she runs forward and hugs me.

"It's okay," I whisper as I hold her against me, breathing her scent for what could be the last time.

"It's not okay, what if you'd died without me ever saying sorry, if you'd gone without knowing I forgive you and that I was stupid?" she sobs, her hands clinging to the fabric of my trench coat.

"I'd know that you loved me enough to tell me what you thought of me," I reply as she kisses me.

It salty and I can feel the tears running down her cheeks but I know it might be the last chance I get to ever kiss her before I die. This time I swear I hear the Peacekeeper whisper 'lucky bastard' under his breath.

"Good luck Blaze," Dria calls as she's dragged out by Peacekeepers, "I love you!"

By the time my final visitor arrives I'm sobbing on the couch, full of the expectations of the District, knowing my girlfriend loves me and knowing that it's most likely that I'll just die in some deserted arena, alone and starving.

The person who arrives is the only person who could cheer me up; my mother.

She just holds me tight like she used to when I was little and I curl up on the couch. I seem too big for it now, but it's a last bit of comfort before I have to go and fight for my life.

"Here," she whispers as she holds out a small ring. There's a small blue stone on it with a strange design carved into it, "It was your father's and he'd want you to have it."

I slip it onto my finger as Mother is led out of the room and I try and compose myself, but I barely have any time as I'm led out of the room by Peacekeepers within seconds; clearly my entourage held up the schedule.

**Piper:**

First are Ves, Tison and Lin.

They're all crying as Ves and Tison hug me and ask what they're going to do without me, "You've got that job at the loom factory and the apartment, I'm sure Mrs. Textil will look after you. Then when I'm back we can live in a big house in the Victor's Village."

"You will come back, won't you?" asks Ves, his eyes glistening with tears.

"Of course, I'm not going to let anyone take me away from you," I reply confidently as I give them one enormous hug.

"Lin, make sure they don't do anything stupid while I'm gone yes?" I ask and she smiles a little bit.

"Okay," she replies and I just hug Ves and Tison and tell them it'll be okay until they have to go.

My next visitor almost gets stabbed with my kitchen knife. He would if it weren't for all of the Peacekeepers around. "You dare come here _now?_" I growl as my father walks into the room, "After all these years and you dare to come _now_?"

"I'm sorry, I was so confused, I didn't know what to do, where to turn to so I gave up," he mumbles, but I can tell this is rehearsed.

"Piss off 'father' you'll get no sympathy from me, or any spoils of victory when I win," I spit at him.

"I could look after the boys if,-" he stutters at my death stare, "If you need."

"No. You will not go _anywhere_ near them and if you so much as think about it, I'll tell Lin about the knives hidden in our house. You won't dare to touch my little brothers after what you did to them."

"Come now, be reasonable, twelve year old boy?"

"I was _ten_ and it didn't matter to you so piss OFF!" I roar as I shove him towards the door which the Peacekeepers opened abruptly so I didn't smash his face into it, an act which I was sorely tempted to commit.

When I'd breathed in and out for several minutes, I slumped against the doors and cleared my mind of all thoughts except winning and going home to Ves and Tison.

Even with only 4 visitors, I thought I was doing decently by numbers and was prepared to leave for the Games but Blaze has so many visitors can _hear_them. I can actually hear the fact that he has dozens of people in there when normally the walls are sound proofed.

Guess I'm not winning the popularity contest then.

Still, popularity doesn't matter; all that matters is your ability to kill and I think I've got that one in the bag.

**Two in a day- I finally sort of made up for some long waits between chapters!**


	11. D9: No Saying Goodbye

**I love hearing people's opinions on characters and who they think is going to die. I wasn't originally, but I'm going to make a poll for who everyone wants to win.**

**I'll put it up after the District 12 Reapings and everyone can have 3 votes for their favourite tributes. It won't change the main storyline or anything but maybe if there's someone's name who keeps cropping up they might survive a little longer. Maybe. Or maybe I'll ignore it entirely, still vote when I make the poll. **

**Goodbyes were too saccharine? I'll take that as a challenge. **

**I made Pat female because females are Reaped first.**

**The first third of this was beta read by my 11 year old next door neighbour. The second part wasn't. You'll see why.**

**Violence and gore warning but this is the Hunger Games fandom so you should sort of expect that.**

**District 9: Ahab Bronson**

I hate life in the Districts.

I've never hated anything more except for the Capitol itself. I'd rather starve out here in District 9 than live, filled with food made through the blood of the people in the Districts and the tributes in the Games.

It wasn't enough for them to kill my sister in their stupid Games. They had to kill my mother too with their faulty boat. She was hunting along the swampy river in District 9 when the rotor went flying off because the Capitol refused to pay for maintenance and it killed her.

My father doesn't care about us anymore- we're just reminders of the wife and daughter he lost. Every Reaping Day he leaves the house at the crack of dawn and spends the day at Mother and Diana's graves leaving me with my wimpy little brother. He doesn't have a job and he spends all of his days 'studying' at school. It's pathetic; he doesn't do anything for our family.

Even now he just sits bunched up in a corner, huddled into a ball.

Our house is filthy; the grey plasterboard of the walls is chipped and cracked, the light flickers on and off but mostly stays off, cobwebs hang across the walls and everything is grimy and dusty. I doubt you could even tell anyone lives in here if it weren't for Ishmael's whimpering.

I don't live in here most days; I spend all of my time training.

I'm not going to be another victim caught off guard by the Games like my sister, next year I'm volunteering and I'm going to win. Then I'm going to kill everyone in the Capitol that made her die. Finally, I'll live in a big house in the Victor's Village with a maid and all the food I could ever want. Alone. My father and my wimp of a brother aren't going to hold me down any longer.

"A-Ahab?" Ishmael asks. I ignore him so he takes it as a sign to keep going because I haven't shouted at him, "Do-do we have any breakfast?"

"Even if I did I wouldn't give it to you!" I throw a bottle at him which he narrowly dodges as it smashes against the wall, "If you're too useless to get your own food, you don't deserve any!"

As I say this, I stand up and slam the door in the face of my cowering brother. Normally I ignore him but I needed to get that rant off my chest. All that matters is avenging my sister; nothing else. The only person I should have to look after is number one.

I charge straight into the forest, holding the spear that I always use for hunting tightly in my fist. I could use a bow and arrow like the rest of the hunters except that this is hunting as much for food and work as it is training for the Games.

Almost everyone in Panem will be prettying themselves up for the Reaping but not me. As if I could even afford a second set of clothes.

Instead, I'm pushing through a marsh, up to my waist in mud and water, trying to catch some animals drinking from the water. One advantage to being grimy is the added element of surprise on any unsuspecting animals.

I don't exactly _like_ killing but I'll do it if I have to, either for food or for revenge in the Games. Right now it's food but this time next year it'll be a different kind of meat.

Despite my best efforts to keep quiet and my head out of shit creek, the movement of my body pushing through the water is obviously upsetting the animals from around the river. That means I'll have to swim.

The water's filthy and you definitely wouldn't want to swim out of choice, but since when is anything I do out of choice?

**District 9: Kristy Greene**

Reaping Day. The one day of the year I have to deal with both my father's my-kids-aren't-good-enough thing _and_ my mother's obsession with making me seem more feminine. Pat's already 12 and more than willing but no, 'you should be a good role model to your sister Kristy.'

Yeah right, because I've ever been a good role model to anybody.

Father isn't any better. He's known around the District for being great with children and thinks that they're great.

Well, unless they're his own kids.

I'm a disappointment, Pat's a wimp and Nick is too immature.

Maybe I wouldn't be such a disappointment if he didn't whine about me so much. Then there's his Capitol loving. Maybe I wouldn't be such a disappointment if he didn't love the government who spends a day each year trying to send me to my death and the weeks after that killing his 'beloved' children from our District.

"Get off your lazy ass and get out here Kristy!" Father yells at me as I groan and jump out of bed. I pull on the cheap, frilly dress Mother has laid out for me but without any gusto.

We're rich enough to have a few walls inside our house for which I am eternally thankful, although Father is always threatening to rip my wall down.

Still, I've been faking 'nice' while delaying the inevitable day on which he puts his foot through it and tears the wall down so random guests can watch me while they eat dinner after I get sent to my room for making snide comments about the Capitol. I stopped that after one of the gits reported me and I got whipped and left on the whipping post on the windiest day of the year so that the wound was whipped open and filled with burning dust.

Mother is screaming about how my hair is horrible, Pat's screaming because Mother is yelling hysterically at her that she should have better friends or the Peacekeepers will pick her and how it's all my bad influence.

When I tell them to shut up, Father joins the din and I'm about to go to my room, but he's expecting this manoeuvre and lunges in front of the door as I leap out the window and run two doors down to hide in the alley between the corner shop and the apartment block.

Father doesn't chase me because anyone seeing him screaming down the street after his kids would definitely ruin his image.

"Enjoying the morning?" I ask as I spot Nick behind a trash can. He jumps back and almost smacks his head on the wall as he pants, holding his heart under his fist.

"Kristy! I thought you were Father for a second… Don't sneak up on me like that, how many times do I have to ask?"

"It's a skill," I grin as Nick slides back down the wall, "What're you out here for?"

"Father being his usual self 'you're too scruffy, pat your hair down, straighten up and fly right,'" Nick replies in a passable impression of our lovely father, "You?"

"Bad influence."

"Still?"

"Yeah… my fault Pat's going to get Reaped for hanging with the wrong crowd."

"So a usual Reaping morning?"

"Pretty much."

**Ahab:**

My haul is crap and I'm in an even worse pre-Reaping mood than usual as I stumble out of the river smelling like whatever crap makes its merry way into District 9's biggest river.

I rip my stinking shirt off and toss it behind a bush for collection on the way back from Reapings. I can't avoid wearing pants but the lack of a shirt gets rid of some of the stench of old sweat and bog. Eau de bog is inevitably horrible- next year, no swimming before Reapings. Having to get the train car fumigated would make a bad impression on the audience I plan to win over.

No one dares talk to me as I walk towards the square, shirtless, my legs covered in mud and holding a spear but I get some appreciative glances from the girls and most of the guys give me a wide berth while the stronger ones nod and walk by me on the way to the Reapings. It doesn't matter to me. I know some people have 'egos' but I have neither time nor patience to care about anything but the Games and avenging my sister.

Signing in is dull because it involves standing around while my mind is on other things, when I could be training.

When I stand in the 17s section I can break up the people standing within it into groups, almost as if they're wearing brightly coloured shirts to show off their feelings.

Some of them have trained, hoping their names won't be drawn but training just in case. There are only a few of them. Next, those who hope they won't be Reaped but just rely on luck if their names get drawn. Finally, the largest group are those quaking with fear, glancing at younger siblings and hoping against hope that they won't be Reaped.

I stand alone as wanting to be Reaped, begging for the chance to be in the arena and to kill like my sister never managed as a member of that second group.

It seems like forever before the section is filled and our candy cane of an escort walks up onto the stage with a red and white top hat perched horribly on her head.

She jumps and giggles through out her speech and it's taking a fair chunk of my self restraint to keep calm and focused on my goal of avenging Diana.

Finally, "Pat Greene!" the name spurts suddenly out of the escort's mouth, a random interlude in a current of Capitol loving jargon.

There's barely a second before a girl leaps out of the 17s as she shouts, "I volunteer," and sprints up to the stage, leaving no possibility of her sister making it to the stage before her.

Another one? It seems like a year doesn't pass without someone volunteering for a younger sibling who was Reaped. With the way they stagger the Reapings so that the older, and more entertaining to watch fight, kids have a greater chance of getting Reaped it's strange that they let so many little kids get Reaped. I would never volunteer for my scum of a little brother.

Still, the boy's name is of more interest to me. Should I volunteer this year? Do I really need another year before I go to the Games?

When the boy's name is called, my choice is taken away from me, "Ahab Bronson."

Good.

**Kristy:**

Nick and I crawl out from behind the dustbins when the sounds of voices begin to increase in number from the east, where the square is.

Pat will get taken to the Reapings by our parents and we want to be out of here before they come past and pre-empt screaming at us some more with death stares. Meanwhile we get a few hours of parent-free time without work or school after the Reapings.

I'm grinning wildly as we join the queue of people entering the square and Nick raises an eyebrow, "What's happening to the Peacekeepers this year?"

I always try and prank the Peacekeepers every Reaping and while they've never caught me in the act, it pisses my father off because he knows that it's probably me.

My best was rigging a sheet of plate glass that was being replaced on the Justice Building so that it dropped on the head of a Peacekeeper who was getting the Reaping bowls set up. The crash over his head was like music to my ears and it didn't do any damage.

Well, lasting damage anyway.

This year it's a little bit more domestic. I covered rocks in lemon and pepper after sharpening them so when I blow on a hollowed out stick from the forest, they cut and sting for hours afterwards. That and the enormous bag of mud on top of a building bordering the queue so that the Peacekeepers on the perimeter are going to be covered in the foulest, most disgusting mud I could dig up from a bog in District 9.

Nick has to peel off to go to the 15s which is good, it's further away from the mud so there won't be any suspicion on him if I get caught. Pat is already in the 12s and Mother and Father have mysteriously vanished despite the other mothers fawning over their little 12 year olds. Hypocrites; 'We love kids?' Bull.

5 Peacekeepers get hit several times by my rocks but they can't move or they'll look weak. They just have to stand through the stinging.

I slip in between the 17s before coming to a halt beside a boy near the middle. He's about to say something to his friend who used to be beside him when he almost smashes into the girl behind him when he starts at my sudden appearance.

"Wow, I did not even see you coming. I'm guessing that was you," he says, pointing towards the Peacekeepers who are squirming uncomfortably with tiny spots of red around the hems of their uniforms. Let's just say I have a reputation and not necessarily a bad one. Well unless you're a Peacekeeper or my parents in which case it's abysmal.

I smile, "Of course. Lemon juice and pepper with just a sprinkle of pointy rocks."

"Not your best work, but not bad either," he replies.

"Oh you didn't think that was _all_ I'm doing did you?" I grin before melting into the crowd again. I love sneaking up on people; it's fun and dead useful when it comes to agro Peacekeepers with guns.

When I release the mud it occurs to me that the mud might relieve some of the stinging. Oh well, it lasted for half an hour or so anyway and the stench will last much, much longer.

Tem, another girl in the 17s, whispers to me, nodding towards the Peacekeepers, "Nice trick," while several people snicker, but most are too afraid of the ramifications of such a small act.

"Thanks," I whisper, but I see one of the Peacekeepers glaring at me. Do they realise that she was congratulating me on the prank? That would be more than enough proof in their books for things I don't even want to comprehend.

Despite ignoring the escort's speed of sound ramble, the name drawn answers all my questions, "Pat Greene!"

I don't waste a second in sprinting out of the 17s and yelling, "I volunteer!"

No way am I going to let anyone not know that I'll never let my sister go to her death, whether my father thinks she needs to 'harden up' or not.

I can see the greedy smiles of the Peacekeepers and I can tell that they're hungering, excusing the pun, for my death. I should have known something like this would happen. Picking me was too simple; they had to give me an ultimatum between my death and watching my sister's death with no escaping the choice.

"Ahab Bronson!" the escort calls as a tall, mud covered boy walks up to the stage, looking pleased with himself. The mud wasn't me at least (vendettas are a _really_ bad start to the Games) since it's only from the legs down and he's clean and shirtless on his top half.

At least I'll have something to look at on the train to my doom.

**Ahab:**

No one visits me for the goodbyes and that doesn't displease me much. I don't want to see my father who's probably preparing me a grave beside my family's as we speak or my wimp of a brother.

I saw the expression on his face when I was Reaped. It was almost… pleased.

He wasn't exuberant, he wasn't sobbing and sad about my impending homicide and victory but he was… maybe relieved is a better word. Ungrateful bastard.

I'll be free of him soon. No whining from the corner, no more interruption to my training. No more swamp training for that matter.

I can almost imagine the clang of metal as I put an end to my opponents, the screams of the tributes who morph into the Capitol in my mind and the retribution for the death another tribute dealt to my sister. Revenge is all I can think of, all I need to keep me going.

Instead of being showered in love and hugs from a sobbing family I was wiping the mud off on the curtains and lying across the couch picking the grit from my fingernails, totally alone. It was just the way I wanted to be before the Games.

No family commitments or empty promises, just the promise of imminent revenge. I will be able to avenge my sister in just a few days and pay back the losses of my family because of the Capitol.

I will not lose my calm.

I will focus, fight and win.

Death is not an option.

**Kristy:**

Ahab and I are ushered into separate rooms for our goodbyes and I'm expecting a tearful scene with Nick, Pat and my parents when the door opens.

It's not what I get.

Instead, the opening of the door heralds a swarm of Peacekeepers with truncheons in their hands and murder on their minds. They know they can't kill me but I know from the look in their eyes that they'll get damn close.

The one at the front pulls his helmet off and I recognise the one I dropped the pane of glass.

"Remember me?" he asks sadistically, kicking me brutally in the ribs, "You better, because I'm your worst nightmare."

His boot slams into my ribs again and this time I'm smashed against the wall, my head banging on the window sill and making me see stars. He holds his hand out for a truncheon and he repeats his last blow with the steel rod. This time I'm sure I hear ribs crunch under the truncheon's brutal path. I can feel them crunch as a sharp pain blossoms in my chest around the aching of the boot's marks on my skin. There isn't any blood, any sign of injury except for the agony pulsating through my body and the screeching of my mind for the pain to stop.

He grabs me by the neck and slides my body into a standing position against the wall, not caring that he draws blood as he smashes my head on the edge of the window, a slight trickle of blood running down my temple and wetting the top of my dress and dying my blonde hair dark red.

"Still-think-your-little-pranks-are-funny-do-you?" he grunts, emphasising each word with a punch to the stomach. I can feel every one of them and feel the moment at which my stomach muscles tear under his relentless fist, causing my body to try and shy away from the attacker, only serving to strain my agonised stomach further. I can see lights dancing before my eyes and the promising painlessness of unconsciousness rushing towards me through a swirling sea of dizzying blackness.

I attempt to answer but I just cough up a trickle of blood. Now I can't breathe and the blood in my airway is making me pant for air as the blows cease for a moment for him to catch his breath, straining the taut muscles and skin across my ribs and stomach and sending a new layer of pain to join the rest.

He only laughs as his boot smashes my shins, hitting a nerve and making me try to curl up in pain, but with his hand in the way I can't do anything more than grit my teeth as my entire body tries to stop the motion for fear of more pain. I will not give him the pleasure of knowing that I'm in agony: my ribs are screaming in protest of his elbow crushing against the broken fragments, my stomach feels like it's been crushed by one of the presses they have in District 7 then pulled apart and snapped, my shin is twitching and my head is dripping blood down my face and skewing my thoughts.

He drops me onto the floor and cackles as he leaves the room.

I try to stand up, but I can't even do something as simple as moving my arm to push myself up without my ribs and torn stomach muscles sending fresh waves of pain over my body.

In the end the Peacekeepers pick me up and I see Ahab's eyebrow rise slightly as they throw me through the doors and onto the train.

My thoughts are groggy as they vaguely form; so the only goodbye I get is an ass-kicking from the Peacekeepers…

I can't say I didn't deserve it… but really? On my Reaping?

I didn't even get to say goodbye… to my family or my friends… I'm going to leave without so much as a hug… a touch… even a word.

**Still too saccharine? It wasn't _really_ gory because I'm saving that for the Games but a hint of blood before they start other than Calvin and Fleur being their psychopathic selves.**


	12. D10: The Good Kind of Justice

**People's guesses on blood baths are intriguing.**

**Regularly wrong, but still intriguing.**

**Since I don't change the amount of effort I put into a blood bath or non blood bath I find it particularly entertaining. Maybe I have writing mood swings I don't notice?**

**I didn't take it negatively, as I said I took it as a challenge and so I did, beating up one of the tributes at their goodbyes. These might be reverting slightly to the good old 'no, don't go!' goodbyes but only slightly. There's still some fun to be had with different bad goodbyes.**

**I changed Matt's brother's name to Mick because we had a brother named Nick last chapter.**

**If you don't get the two Games in a year reference, see my old story which I moved for the purposes of mentoring and writing a different multi chapter.**

**District 10: Matthew "Matt" Hanson**

I'm up before the rest of my family, probably my District, on Reaping Day morning.

I don't really mind, the crisp morning breeze and getting to spend some time with the animals and my thoughts before the Reapings. Our farm isn't exactly the largest, it's on the fringe of District 10 and surrounded by a dense forest leading towards District 9. We have a few horses, chickens and a herd of cattle and sheep and for District 10 that's pretty small.

District 10 is one of the Districts with the lowest population because of the huge amount of space required for farming but not as small as you might think because we breed like rabbits.

Our family is tiny with only two kids, my brother Mick and I but he's more than enough to cover for all of the kids my parents didn't have. He shouts at them when they don't let him go out at night, he breaks locks, he let the sheep loose one night when he didn't get to go to a friend's house before running out in the ensuing chaos. I didn't mind finding all the sheep and calming them, they always hid in the same few areas away from the forest or just trotted around uncertainly, it was the fact that he was so appalling towards our parents that got to me.

I couldn't stand it when people were cruel for absolutely no reason. Bullying, hurting, talking back, even the minor things set me off. I was sort of famous in District 10 for being the defender of anyone worth defending.

That made the Hunger Games pretty much the bane of my existence. Everyone knows that killing is horrible and that the Games are cruel and unusual punishment for a crime committed by another generation but being 'blessed' as I am with a higher than average IQ, there's so much more to it than that. The strings being pulled by the Capitol to maintain a tyrannical regime, controlling through the fear instilled in every person in Panem. The revolutionaries believed that if we fought back that we could win and take power from the Capitol but that was the power of the Games, just like in the arena they could kill us randomly, at any moment with no warning or anything like a goodbye. Dying of old age in your bed was a privilege no citizen of Panem was going to receive. Everything was controlled by someone up in a tower in the distance, tapping out your life on a 'computer' at a shiny desk in the Capitol. If you tried to rebel, it wasn't as simple as pain to yourself. Every rebel was willing to die for their cause, to suffer through any pain for a new future for Panem, but that wasn't what happened. Instead you suddenly found your child ripped away from you, forced to become either a monster or another garden ornament in the local cemetery. There was no escaping, no helping them, only the cold, bleak present and watching their each and every moment on the path to doom of one kind or another.

I wanted to try and end everything that was bad in District 10, all the bullying and the fighting but that was an impossible task and the Games even more so. If I were to be Reaped into the Games I wouldn't be able to convince myself to kill for the Capitol. I'd be that guy who looked the part; slightly crooked nose, dark hair and eyes but who in the end got killed by showing mercy to some Career with a knife to his throat.

It was a grim reality and one which I didn't want to face.

Some would say I have a hope. One year we had a huge number of wild dogs coming onto the farms and attacking our herds and while the Capitol didn't give a damn about a few animals being picked off every year, losing whole herds to the dogs was too much. Their solution involved no work whatsoever on their part; they just gave kids some short bows and told one of District 10's mentors, a shaggy haired 30 something named Adrian Csirke who'd developed a good bow arm in training before the Games. Everyone was given rudimentary training and sent off but Adrian thought I had talent and taught me some more skills but I hated killing and violence so profusely that eventually he gave up and we stopped.

Now today I have to face another Reaping and ask myself once again if I could kill or if I would rather die for the Games.

**District 10: Scarlett Lavington**

When I wake up it doesn't really occur to me that today is different to any other day. I still have to get up at 5.30 to feed the animals around our farm and clean out the crap in the pig pens.

I love Onyx and Brynn but some days I wish they were old enough to help out with the filthy chores. Despite having a farm that's almost too big for us to handle, I still only have two sets of clothes and having to wash them every day after mucking out the cows in the morning seems like a total waste.

At the very least, if nothing else matters I'm happy that I'm the only one going to the Reapings. I could force myself to kill, to come home from the Games but I couldn't let Brynn do Onyx do the same. On the other hand, Onyx has his first Reaping next year and as a boy I can't do anything about it and I only have one year to look after Brynn in the Reapings and then I just have to watch.

Just watch when my world could be torn apart by two words. Just a single name out of the lips of a disgusting Capitol escort.

Like Terme's name was just another name. It was only last year, Terme was 15 years old and a school friend of mine and he died in the blood bath. I just had to watch him torn apart by a District 1 boy then thrown off the end of the spear like a bit of filth.

If anything was filth it was the boy and if not him then the Capitol itself.

My hatred at the Capitol and their stupid Reapings spurs me through tossing mounds of turd out of the animal pens. I used to cry when they had to be killed, but at the age of eight I taught myself not to care about their deaths and to accept them as a part of life. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't extend that logic to the Games in my head.

Almost, but almost isn't enough.

Finally, when I'm exhausted and tired, I return to the horse's stable to brush them over before going to the Reapings. I doubt any one else in the house is awake yet, they're probably all still sleeping while I'm out knee deep in turd. Still, brushing the horses is relieving when I'm as panicked as I'm working myself up to be. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have the freedom to come out and brush the horses when I'm stressed or sick of people. I can't imagine living in District 8, shut up in towering apartment blocks and crushed in between the warehouses.

Breakfast isn't as sombre of an affair at our house as some others, we have two hyperactive under-12s and Mother makes a special breakfast for me and the rest of us before the Reapings. They're still young enough to have the 'bad stuff won't happen to us' outlook on life.

I hope that it won't be broken this year, or any year, for my sake as much as theirs.

Too bad it's not me pulling the strings.

**Matt:**

Mick and I leave the house together and he gives me a distinctly _un_friendly thump on the shoulder.

"Good luck Matt. Not that you'll return the favour anyway, you and your parents will be happier without me," Mick smirks cruelly. We might be identical twins but you'd be hard pushed to tell. Mick's face is permanently in a ghost of his smirk, his eyebrows slant down and his hair is longer, shaggier and badly groomed. I'm the family's golden boy, clean, short haired and reserved but sometimes I wish I weren't so that Mick would stop it with the attention-grabbing. It hurts everyone but most of all himself.

I guess the fact that I'm feeling slightly upset shows because Mick punches me again, not even faking friendliness, and growls, "Wimp," before sprinting off.

Mick is so insensitive to everyone around him that it annoys me.

In fact I'm so distracted that I walk down an alleyway short cut without realising it's occupied. "Gimme your money, bitch!" a deep voice snarls from the shadows.

"Piss off," a voice replies.

I have enough brain still functioning to step into the light and push between the two of them. I've got a bit of a height advantage over him but that's not why he takes a step back and grins awkwardly.

"Hey, I'll just be… er going then, shall I?" he asks, taking a few steps back before running after a slight nod. I'm notorious for dealing with anyone beating other people up, even when I don't have my longbow on me at the moment. A well-placed arrow and the fear factor covers grounds that physical punishment can't, all it takes is a little brain power.

"Thanks for saving me," the girl smiles as she looks uncertainly at me as if wondering whether I need to tell her to go too.

"I guess you're not going to be walking down any dark alleyways any time soon," I'm bad at conversations but I feel that the statement begs for a reply.

"Nah, I never learn," she says as she dashes off towards the square.

I follow. No matter how much I like to play the hero, I hate the dark and being alone. Reasons number one million and one and one million and two why I never want to be in the Hunger Games. I don't have too many friends, the downfalls of being the quiet one, but at least knowing there are people around is what I want. Knowing they don't want to kill me is also a bonus.

Not that I have anyone to talk to as I shuffle into the 17s section. After the 37th Hunger Games ended in an escape attempt, everyone started… breeding to try and get their kids a better life if there was a rebellion. Instead they made two Games in a year and sliced the tribute's tongues out. I still don't know what to think of the victor. Apparently he's famous for being the Capitol's… well, whore but he seems reserved and angry whenever he's on screen with his tributes. Reason one million and three; don't want to end up screwed over (in every meaning of the word) like the victor of the 37.5th Hunger Games.

I listen to every word of the escort's speech, trying to pick out anything interesting about the Capitol, the other Districts, the outside world in general, but it's all the usual "All hail the Capitol" trash that's carefully controlled by the Panem Gamemakers. Normal life might not be a part of the Hunger Games, but it's a game all the same and one where the Capitol holds all the cards.

"Scarlett Lavington," the escort calls out, a piece of paper held in her hand. Sometimes I wonder if there's even a name on the paper or if the escort is told a name beforehand from some special selection process and that the Reapings are merely a farce.

The boy's name questions my belief, "Matthew Hanson," what had I done to annoy the Capitol?

No matter what he thinks, at the very least I'm glad it's not Mick.

**Scarlett:**

I want to get to the 16s section as fast as possible to meet Hallie before the Reapings. I just have to take a short cut through Chicke Alley to get to the main road to the square.

There's a guy waiting in the alley but I assume he won't hassle me on Reaping Day. Even if he tries I can just push past, he's not going to make me waste my time going around.

"Hey, give me your money," he says, standing up from the wall and leering down at me.

"Hell no," I reply, taking a step back.

"Gimme your money, bitch!" he snarls, pushing towards me.

"Piss off," I reply again, preparing to sprint into the shadows.

A figure pushes in between us and I vaguely recognise the short brown hair and slow but sure gait of Matt Hanson. He's the year above me in school and notorious for being a chronic knight in shining armour.

As he steps between us, the wannabe mugger blanches. Matt's skill with a longbow is also pretty notorious after a wild dog plague a few years back where he helped one of the victors teach an archery class after starting only the year before.

"Hey, I'll just be… er going then, shall I?" the mugger asks before running out of the alleyway.

"Thanks for saving me," I smile, trying not to blush at being rescued by Hallie's current crush, even though they've never talked. Hallie and her girlie side are going to be the death of me one day.

"I guess you're not going to be walking down any dark alleyways any time soon," he jokes, looking slightly awkward in conversation.

"Nah, I never learn," I reply before waving slightly then running to find Hallie and escape the eau de awkward in the alleyway.

"What took you so long?" Hallie frowns as I join her in the queue to sign in.

"Some mugger tried to stop me," I reply nonchalantly and I can see she's about to ask something when I continue, "Guess who rescued me."

"Matt?" she asks giggling as I nod which sets her off even more.

She bites her lip to contain her giggling as we enter the 16s section and whisper through our escort's speech about his current shade of colour-changing contacts which at the moment are flashing between neon-green and violent orange. I'm amazed no one's on the ground in seizures, seriously.

"Scarlett Lavington," the escort calls as the contacts suddenly flash violet purple.

No… not me… what about Onyx and Brynn? They're not old enough to be in the Games but are they going to watch me die in them?

I try to stand my ground as the Peacekeepers come for me. They can't make me go; I'm not going to let them take me to the Games. Never. I plant my feet but they drag me forward and I have to stumble onto the stage after I've been thrown to maintain the dignity of staying upright.

Next up, "Matthew Hanson."

No, not Matt. I already owe him for saving me from the mugging and now I'm going to fight him in the Games. Matt, the guy who's amazing with a longbow, who Hallie has a crush on and who always stands up for what's right. How am I going to fight that?

I could kill for Brynn, Onyx and my parents, but what if the person I have to kill is a better person than I am?

**Matt:**

Goodbyes aren't a huge deal for me.

I'm that quiet guy who everyone likes but doesn't really have any friends.

That means that goodbyes are mostly a family affair and while I want to be able to comfort my parents, I hate myself for wishing Mick wasn't with them. Separately I could handle him, but together it's a bigger ask with my parents and especially after our… discussion this morning.

"Matt! I'm so sorry; you shouldn't have to go to these Games!" Mother sobs as she holds onto me. Father's with them too for once. He's a drunkard but the lovable kind, the one everyone wants to know because he's a good laugh when he's had a few drinks and 'had a few drinks' is more or less his natural state of being.

"It's okay Mother," I whisper as she hugs me on the couch.

"Hah, I guess I was right. No one cares about anything that happens to me but 'No, Matt, how could you go?'" Mick mocks in a falsetto squeak.

This just starts Mother crying harder as she sits on the couch, sobbing into her arms while I stand and face my brother. We're the same height but he's slightly slimmer from the lack of archery training and he's right handed. He grips his right hand in a fist and I know that if it comes to blows he'll punch with his right hand about mid-chest height.

"Aw is big Matt gonna stand up to me? Not going to say anything though, are you wimp?" he asks mockingly. I don't answer but he barely gives me time as he continues, "Well it's lucky you got Reaped because we don't need a big cry baby around. No one wants big cry baby Matt. I'm glad you got Reaped; I don't even want you as a brother."

Mick turns on his heel and stalks out of the room.

My mother is distraught and I try to comfort her while my mind is on my brother's words. Father just slaps my back, almost missing, and tells me 'You'll be right' before lying over the couch and snoring.

I can't believe he'd come to the goodbyes just to say that to me.

Still, I choke out to my parents, "Look after Mick. He just needs a little more love."

Mother looks shocked, I've always been her favourite and she can't believe I'm telling her to love her other son, especially after what he's said. It's not a matter of what my ego says; it's about doing what's right.

When my family leaves, I sit forward on the couch with my head in my hands and a tear leak out the side of my eye and I wonder if Mick's right.

Am I really just a cry baby?

**Scarlett:**

Brynn and Onyx come charging into the room, grabbing onto my legs as tears flood down their cheeks. They might be younger, but they've inherited every bit of my stubbornness and force.

"Scarlett, you can't leave us," Onyx whines. Normally he's quiet and a bit shy around anyone and everyone, but as he tugs at my shirt, he's just another scared little kid who wants his big sister back.

"Yeah, we don't want you to go to the Hunger Games. Can't you ask not to? Please, please, please, please, pleeeeeeeeeeeease?" Brynn asks. That's what she does whenever she wants something at home, like an extra piece of bread, being allowed to feed the chickens or going to a friend's house. It breaks my heart to hear her do it now, knowing full well that there's no way I can do what she asks. I would do anything for my family; I wouldn't let anything stop me from getting what I want to, except now I have no control. My life I totally in the hands of the Gamemakers, the train, allies, the arena, the gifts, everything is based on someone else and I can't change it.

I hate that.

Mother and Father collect Brynn, Onyx and I in a group hug, each of our tears mingling with the others' and I know that it's almost certain that it's the last time we'll ever do it.

They have to leave all too quickly to be replaced by Hallie. I know she's my BFF and that we'd share everything with each other but it kills me to see her now with tears running down her cheeks.

"No… Scarlett, I don't want you to go, we have to get boyfriends and… and finish school and double date the twins," she whispers, mixing heartfelt sadness at my Reaping with girl-talk.

It's the last time I'll ever have it with her I realise as I pull her into a hug.

The last time I'll care about something so simple as guys, clothes or double dates. Well maybe the clothes in the Capitol, but I won't be caring about it with my best friend.

I never want to go to the Capitol.

Still, I have no control even as the Peacekeeper shrinks away from my death stare as he ushers Hallie out of the room.

I'm met in the corridor by Matt and his Peacekeeper entourage and his eyes seem slightly red.

I can't believe that someone who seems like an almost ethereal figure; relatively attractive, talented, smart, Hallie's crush and notorious defender of right and wrong, being Reaped into the Games with me.

Seeing the hint of tears around his eyes finally shatters the illusion that District 10 is safe for me as I'm led towards slaughter.

**Another random piece of end-of-chapter trivia; I realised that Fairytales (minor spoiler: the theme of the Chariot Rides) is an anagram of Teary Fails. Wanna guess what the Chariot Ride chapter is entitled?**

**Also, I've drawn up some chariot outfit designs that I'll try and upload ASAP. I'll do 3 at once but I need to finish one of them and which district they're for will be a secret and not immediately obvious.**


	13. D11: Disabled

**Sorry this took so long… exams…**

**Well exams and a complete lack of will to write more Reapings.**

**I feel almost motivated now. Only two Reapings to go!**

**Wait… no I don't. There's _another_** **Reaping to write. So sorry if this isn't up to my usual level, I'll rewrite after I've escaped the Reapings… I'm continuing my bad goodbye challenge; Denver's still has a hint of saccharinity but Millie's is pretty bad.**

**Then I put up a poll on my profile and start the fun stuff like *tiny spoiler* Felix (1) breaking into the drinks car on the train.**

**Two more things: I had to change Millie's history a tiny bit to make her a bit more of a canon District 11 character.**

**Second thing: should I do the chariots from the POV of Regan Vale the rookie stylist or the tributes themselves?**

**Scratch that, three things: Someone made a forum for the Christmas SYOT Awards so feel free to go over and submit your favourite SYOT for an award of any kind. No I don't mean this is for me, this is for anyone's SYOT you think is worth a mention and there's a completed SYOT directory: .net/forum/Christmas_2011_SYOT_Awards/99052/**

**District 11: Denver Radisson**

Some people might enjoy waking up to the sound of birdsong on Reaping Day, the one day they know they won't go to bed aching from the cracks of the Peacekeeper's whips and the strain of pulling fruit from the trees. It's a special kind of skill to be able to pick just enough fruit into your own mouth to push yourself through the day without being obtrusive, either in fruit count or just being obvious.

I can't appreciate the birdsong.

Not because I'm a crazy psycho or anything, I just can't hear anything. Being deaf sort of does that to you.

Funny that.

In another District I might have been treated before I went deaf but no, losing another District 11 slave doesn't mean much in the Capitol. I'm lucky to be alive, unlike my parents who vanished when I was 8 leaving me packed in with my grandparents as a prime example of the poor lives we live in District 11.

Aspen watches me anxiously as I get up from the floor. I don't have to worry about blankets since we have none and since we have no space it's only two steps to the door. The only un-filled space is a corner with the door, the mandatory television and a bucket for… waste matter.

Anyone in District 11 is lucky to live past the age of 40 so being able to live with grandparents is a privilege especially when they're 57. They're pretty much village elders since having kids at 20 is a way of life with the famine in District 11.

Breakfast is a gritty mix of a few blueberries with tesserae flower and water that has the consistency of glue with a sour aftertaste from the week-or-more old berries. Still, it's food and it gives me something in my stomach that will take the next few hours to digest until I go to sleep. Waking up at 12 is a relief after years and years of hard work in the fields with only one day of respite for Reapings.

I like not being at work for once. I know that I have to accept the fact that I'll never hear again. I have to accept that I can't even claim that I'm a man if I don't know if my voice has broken yet. It's still a relief not to have to work more than twice as hard as anyone else for 2 hours every day trying to lip read the 'teacher' at District 11's pathetic excuse for a school.

Leaving the District, the hard work and the dodgy schooling; I can't even imagine being Reaped.

**District 11: Millie Sun Mallard**

It's already 1 pm when I finally manage to coax myself off the floor.

Our 'house' is basically just a few sheets from one solid wall strapped to the ground. It gives us a permanent under-a-blanket effect but I like it just as much as I did when we had a house. It seems warm and cosy with an extra blanket over my head and the feeling of us all squished together. What's considered a house in District 11 is a small shack that's just big enough to fit a family in so after there was a fire that burned through a section of the District and half our house before it was put out.

This means I'm up for a ridiculous amount of tesserae to feed my layabout father who experiments in 'herbs' now we can't afford morphling and my mother because all the money she earns goes towards blankets for the roof which are rare in District 11 but not as rare as the building materials we would need for a proper roof. It sucks that she has to work so hard and I'm more than happy to take tesserae for her. My father? Er… less so.

This has made me more than a little bit paranoid before the Reapings. Taking tesserae is a commonplace necessity in District 11, but I've been taking more to cover for the food we can't buy because we need a roof and, for that matter, a back wall.

Having shoes is a luxury we can't afford so I'll be going to Reapings barefoot in an old set of shredded jeans and a t shirt, same thing I wear every day. It looks a lot comfier than all the tight pants, weird designs and sharp edges that I sometimes see Capitol people in.

I doubt I'd even know what to do if I had free time because with too many days off I couldn't just sleep all day and the Reapings wouldn't be on every day off. We work every day of the week except for two hours a day at school where we get Capitol-funded jargon spewed at us by a Peacekeeper. There used to be a teacher I haven't seen him in District 11 since he 'retired.' I miss him, he was a fun teacher and actually made jargon entertaining.

I wonder what people do all day in other Districts or if they got Reaped to go to the Capitol. There's no work and plenty of food that they don't have to make or anything. Well that's because we do it but the point is that they have so much freedom that I don't even know how I would use. It must be strange being a victor, spending all your time cooped up in a house with anything you want.

Still, with no money for food and no siblings to wait for, I trudged out of the door, hungry.

Getting the day off for Reapings was a double-edged sword for me; it was a day off from work, but without any work there was no reason for me to have to eat and waste our food.

At least I get to spend the day with Greg and Sash, my personal first and second wheels.

**Denver****:**

Emit is waiting for me outside, he's been my next door neighbour and best friend since I was a toddler, even before I was deaf, and he learnt Panem's sign language just for me.

You ready for Reapings? He asks; Reapings isn't in the sign language so we replaced it with a… crude hand signal.

Who's ever ready for Reapings? I reply rhetorically as Emit answers anyway. I wish he wasn't up for Reapings, but I'm glad for the company and at least there's no chance of Aspen being in danger.

Careers, he replies with a flick of his wrist.

True, I reply thoughtfully. If I was ever in the Hunger Games, I wouldn't just be dead because I'm deaf, that's never been much of a problem for me because I can work around it such as using body language and tiny air movements or ground movements, but because I have no experience. The Careers and their training would rip me apart in seconds.

The noise of all the people approaching the square doesn't faze me as we head towards the square before Emit has to break off and go to the 16s section, leaving me to go to the 17s alone.

Hey, Egra says as I stand next to her. She's in my grade at school but she doesn't sign so I have to lip read, like I've done for most of my life.

Hey, have you seen the new stage for the Reapings? I wonder how they can afford that, I reply darkly. I can't hear myself, but I learned how to speak before I went deaf and no one seems to have any trouble understanding me.

Probably paid it off with the kumquats they made us spend 3 months harvesting in the orange field last year, she replies, I had calluses on my hands for months after hoeing all of the land they needed to plant an entirely different type of tree on that land and I almost choked to death on all of those fertilisers. You could smell them, right? She asks.

I narrowly avoid rolling my eyes at her. It's infuriating how many people don't realize that I'm just deaf; not blind, mute, unable to smell and stupid as well.

Yeah, it was definitely stupid, but not as stupid as that stage looks.

Egra giggles as we both look at the stage. I like communicating with people even if I can't hear them. It's strange but fascinating and I just like making people happy in general. The stage really does look stupid; a bright red and neon green stage which makes me wish I was already blind so I don't have to gouge my eyeballs out with my fingernails. The only thing that looks more stupid is our escort who's tattooed like she's covered in fruit.

I don't even bother putting in the effort to lip read her. Sure it's a second nature to me, but even Egra's little rant took a considerable amount of effort to keep up with.

I almost wish I could hear, just to distract me from worrying about the Games and what could happen to me.

I don't even know the name of the girl who gets Reaped; I just see her walking desolately towards the stage.

I don't know the name of the boy; I just stand there until Egra pokes me in the arm. I don't even have to ask her why she's poked me, I don't have to turn and see her nervous expression and I definitely don't have to hear the words she utters to know what's happened.

I've been chosen for the Hunger Games.

I'm leaving my District behind.

I'm going to miss the rest of my day off.

Damn…

**Millie:**

When I leave my 'house' I'm met by Greg and Sash, my two friends in District 11. I'm pretty lucky to have any company at all considering the amount of work we do but we talked sometimes at school and Greg is the guy that pulls the cart for our area to the depot to be sent off to the Capitol so we see each other occasionally.

Still, I always feel like a third wheel. While Greg and Sash say they enjoy my company and joke about the fact I'm horribly shy in public places, they sort of leave me out of it. They always tell me I should talk more but that doesn't stop getting them carried away. At least they're funny to watch getting carried away.

Even if they were people who never spoke to me in my life, it's a comfort to have someone with me as we head for the Reapings. Since they have spoken to me plenty of times, it's so much better to be with them than on my own.

They're not totally unafraid of the Reapings, but Greg's fairly rich from having a higher paid job shifting all the food into the city centre and Sash's an only child with one parent so they have a tiny shack and fewer mouths to feed and thus more money. Meanwhile, in the Millie corner, I've taken a huge stack of tesserae and I'm panicking; badly.

It doesn't help that I barely make it to the 15s section with Sash without collapsing due to the lack of food.

She tries to keep me happy by continuing to chat, even if I don't reply with all the people packed in, but I can see her having a non-verbal conversation with Greg in the 16s. Sometimes I wish I was able to talk more, but after I was half-strangled to death by Yeast Wedry for saying his brother should've learned how to climb trees before shattering most of the bones in his body trying to steal raspberries from my tree two years ago. His brother was 'euthanized' by the Peacekeepers a week later and since then I've tried to avoid saying anything in case it comes out… I guess wrong is the word.

Our escort leaps onto the stage and I can't get rid of the incessant buzzing of her voice no matter how much I feel like passing out.

The only things that could focus my concentration are the three words I hear, "Millie Sun Mallard!"

I have to try and keep myself steady as I blunder towards the stage, the tunnel vision starting to creep in as she calls out the boy's name. There aren't any volunteers.

A bear walks up to join me from the 17s section as the mentor cheers our names.

I don't think they reap bears but he's huge and has a dark red-brown tan and with my hunger-addled brain he looks like one.

I can't… pass out now…

I need to get through the Goodbyes and passing out on stage… bad idea.

Things I like about the Capitol already; food.

**Denver****:**

First to say goodbye are my grandparents.

They're barely alive; starved, moving carcases that exist only because they feel obligated to look after Aspen and I after our parents died.

The time off work will do them some good but the reason might just kill them.

You can't give up because of me, you got it? I say quietly as I pull them each into a hug. I know you want to care for us so you better keep doing it for Aspen with or without me… please.

My grandfather smiles at the use of the word 'please,' something he's tried to get me to do for years.

He waves me goodbye and I wave back as a lump forms in my throat at the thought of never again seeing the people who have raised me like their own child since my parents were dragged away.

Next up: Emit.

My best, and only, friend in District 11. The one who never cared whether I could hear his rambling stories and his tales about his 'romantic exploits.' The one who would speak in sign language just for me, whether his other friends thought I was a stupid waste of space or not.

"Hey Denver…" Emit signs, looking sorry for me but clearly not sure what to do with himself or what to say.

"You don't have to sign just for me, Em," I say out loud… I think.

"Come on Den, you know I don't mind having to do this for you. I've known you since I was born and some stupid deafness isn't going to get in the way of that, least of all before the Games!"

"That's the problem. The Games I can't let them know that I'm deaf, they'll exploit any weakness. I have to act like I can hear and like I don't know sign language," I reply. It's only then that the full horror of the Games crashes over me. I'll be living a lie through the Games; I'll be on sentry duty in the pitch blackness relying on only _scent_ to notice any potential threats.

I'm not sure if I'm more worried about that or the fact that if I win I'll be able to hear again. I can't imagine hearing anything after years of unearthly stillness.

Emit doesn't reply, he just nods and sends me off with a bro-hug. That's what we are; brothers in all but parentage.

He might not be my real brother but that doesn't make him any less important than any other sibling lost to the Games. The only person I could ever miss more is Aspen so it breaks my heart to see her replace Emit in front of me in the Goodbye room.

Her jaw is set tight and I can see she's trying not to cry.

I pull her into a bear hug, wishing that I could shield her in my arms from the Games like I have every other year when our TV flickers to life. Even just being able to turn off the TV would be enough. Letting my little sis not watch her big brother either kill or be killed on the big screen.

For the first time I feel myself truly wishing that I was never struck down by meningitis. I've always been able to do everything anyone else does no matter how much effort it takes but the thing I want most in the world right now is one thing I can't do.

I can't hear my sister crying as she tells me goodbye. I can't hear her say the words even if I feel her lips move against my skin and her breath on my shoulder but I can't hear the words she says.

Maybe the Capitol will repair my hearing if I win. They never do beforehand; blind, deaf and mute tributes are _great_ fun.

That doesn't change the fact that if I don't win I'm never going to hear my little sister's voice. I'm never going to see my little sister grow up, get pissed off at her first boyfriend, never going to help her through another shift on the orchards.

According to one of the old victors, the best thing you can have in the Games is focus.

Right now, all I need is the image of Aspen getting married some day with a crown of orchard flowers, the District 11 tradition, and I'll fight forever.

Since I have no parents, she's my sister, my foster 'daughter' and my best friend and not even Death can take her away from me, no matter how weak my hearing is.

**Millie:**

I just make it into the room for the goodbyes when I collapse onto the chair, unable to function enough to move my arms.

Greg and Sash walk into the room and I just manage to stand up to say goodbye and hug them. For once, they're more speechless than me as they choke through their words, wracked by sobs.

I don't even realise I've blacked out until I'm coming to on the couch of the couch with my mother giving my hair one last stroke, my head in her lap like she would have done when I was just a little child in her arms. Then the hand stops stroking and my eyes snap open.

The Peacekeepers are leading out my mother as I try to grab her hand, to pull her back towards me as she gives me one last loving glance before turning a corner as I'm slammed back into the room by a Peacekeeper.

Once again I collapse onto the couch with exhaustion, but now there's a light in my eyes. Now I have to win. I can't let myself die in the Games without telling my mother I love her and my friends that they're the best.

So I'm not going to die.

No way are the Games going to take me without me getting to say goodbye to everyone important.

I know fate's not exactly the best of company, I do live in half a house after all, but it's not that evil.

Now that I know that I can win this, I'm more than willing to pass out until I get some food. That way I get to dodge the cameras on the way to the train and I don't get all depressed about not getting to see my mother before the Games.

Yet the more I want the blackness, the less it comes. I won't admit it, but I'm scared. I know I can win, I'm used to Hunger and living off berries from the trees but I'm scared.

When I start feeling scared I feel somehow incomplete, my mind totally entranced in the past instead of looking towards the future, to how awesome my life would be if I won.

The bear boy, Denver, just looks dead focussed and cold.

I don't know which I'd rather be; normally I'm the smiling one, even when I'm not talking I try to be happy, but right now I'm exhausted and scared.

Really I'd like the third option; remaining the third wheel of Sash and Greg, no matter how much it annoyed me, is an unimaginable amount better than dead.

No.

Depressed is bad.

I need to look forward, make the most of things and in general; don't worry and be happy.

**Sorry this took so long and is probably so bad… I can barely stand to write any more Reapings…**

**Train Rides next, (after D12) YAY!**


	14. D12: Bucket Lists

**The fandom's getting busier than usual. Probably the movie but it took ages to find my own story I updated _yesterday_.**

**On a more related note; LAST REAPING!**

**Lulu: (well and anyone else who reads it) spot the BBYO reference.**

**outofthesun: after reviewing all my chapters, I really hope I did Ivy justice.  
><strong>

**Poll is now up. You get two votes: one for the favourite character you submitted (if you submitted one, otherwise free choice) and your favourite character overall. You can vote up until the last Pre-Games chapter so you should probably wait a short while, I'd say until training for alliances and stuff but you can submit whenever. (I'm not nay-saying voting now) I would like everyone to vote especially if you didn't submit a character just to see a totally unbiased view on the tributes.**

**Another serve of hormone–charged teenage guy coming up. They're funny but really weird to write. (See District 8)**

**A little comic relief in this chapter and a not-really-that-bad goodbye.**

**District 12: Wesley "Wes" Faulkner**

"Yo, bro," Waverly yells as I groan and open my eyes,

"Ys, sis?" I reply vaguely, my brain still dead from waking up too recently.

"You're so thick headed," Waverly shakes her head as I finally focus on her sitting on my legs at the end of the bed.

"Yeah, my skull is pretty thick… remember that time that I head-butted that brick wall?"

She laughs as he replies, "How could I forget? You're still so slow to pick things up."

"I've got good reflexes!"

"If you say so, bro," she replies doubtfully, "Anyway, get up, it's 2 pm already."

Oh right, Reapings. Waverly and I are both 18 this year and my nerves are unbelievably frayed. Not for me- for Waverly. Having a twin sister who is one of the most likely kids in the District to get Reaped, alongside yourself, is the most nerve-wracking thing I've ever faced.

Worst of all is knowing that I can't even volunteer for her because she's female but I'm glad to know that she can't volunteer for me since there can't be two female tributes.

I would happily turn the world for Waverly's safety and knowing I can't is more terrifying than anything I feel for myself.

So I attempt to block it out, focus on something else like the fact that Piar Kelva's prodigious… implants haven't helped her leave District 12, the kicked puppy of Panem.

"Nice weather out, eh Wave?" I ask as the door slams open and shut, giving us a great view of the almost pitch black thunderheads rolling over the District, the hinge rusted away totally and termites are slowly working towards the halfway mark of eating our door. Well the termites and Fred, the friendly neighbourhood hobo who keeps attacking our door for firewood. We even give him a few pieces when the termites crack them off by eating away too much of the support. Apparently baked termites are good eating.

"Oh yeah, fabulous. I just love the feeling of rain pulverising my best dress on the happiest day of the year."

I love my sister's sense of humour- it almost rivals my own, "And here I thought that the sopping wet look was in this season," I grin as Waverly laughs slightly before frowning. I guess fashion is too much of a Capitol thing to talk about it on Reaping Day, especially for an 18 year old who looks like a District 11 slave.

Can't think about Reapings… haha those implants…

**District 12: Ivy Laurel**

Reaping Day.

Big whoop.

Not so different to every other day if you're a kid in District 12 except for the whole 'chance you're going to die' part.

It might sound stupid to want more work but I'm envious of all the kids in the other Districts who have something to do with their life. District 1 and 2 get to train for the Games, District 3 can work in factories, District 4 get to fish (which would be awesome… if I could swim), District 5 get construction and proper schooling, District 6 get to make their medicines (and actually learn skills at school), District 7 spend their days with axes out in the wilderness, District 8 get the textiles, District 9 all get to hunt, District 10 get their pets and District 11 swing around the orchard vines.

I don't want to grow up to be just another down-and-out in District 12, spending my days as a housewife until my husband dies in a mine 'accident.' I want to do something with my life, to actually be _someone_ instead of mingling in the crowd. I'd rather be down in the mines with the men than spend my days working my fingers to the bone washing overworn clothes. Years back I could have; the Capitol kept a few poor kids down in the mines for a few pennies just to get more work done. Well they did until some pretty-boy miner showed up in the 25th Hunger Games and the Capitol complained it was 'inhumane.'

District 12 is the trash of Panem. We aren't just the poorest, the weakest and the most downtrodden but we're the combined human trash of generations. The other Districts are more or less segmented racially, some have dark skin, others light hair, others have eye colours specific to each District. Well all except District 12; dark skin, dark hair, light hair, green eyes, blue eyes, whatever the heck you want eyes. Every person who's ever been banished, arrested or demoted since before the Dark Days gets shunted to good old District 12.

That doesn't mean I want to be in the Games but sometimes I find myself wondering if I wouldn't be able to do something with myself. I want to succeed in life more than I want to live if I was just another girl.

It's not like I'm a total waste of resources out in the Seam; my parents own a general store in the merchant part of the District. Not that it matters when most people can't afford to actually buy food of their own. As appalling as it sounds, a lot of kids are born to attract tesserae for food as most deaths occur between 18 and 30 before people can have kids to get more food from the tesserae.

Our shop is all of about five metres across and five metres long with a storeroom in the back. The Seam kids are mostly served by the black market the 'Hob' and even that would be doing something more important in life than helping with the general store. At least there I'd be helping the more disadvantaged but instead I'm slightly better fed but by far one of the poorest in the merchant District. Selling food involves buying from other Districts, transporting, tax, goods 'security' and some other hellish combination of theft by the Capitol. Mother won't sell up the store because it was handed down through her family since the Dark Days.

We get to actually eat some food we sell on Reaping Day since Mother saves up to try and earn some 'karma,' as if she believed in it, so I won't get Reaped. It's almost impossible not to be an atheist in District 12… unless you're Pastor Steve who was volunteered for as a child and now spends his days preaching about the will of God saving him. The volunteer had his head hacked off with a club in the blood bath. Other than him, there is no divine faith in District 12 and yet everyone believes in luck.

My opinion? Bull.

Not that my opinion matters, something which I will devote my entire life to changing.

I can't let myself believe that I can't change anything or I never will.

**Wes:**

Our family is only a year away from being out of the grips of the Reapings. Wanda is 4 years too old, Wade 3 years and both Waverly and I are 18, duh. After our parents realised their first names both started with 'W' they shared the joy with all of their children.

It's with my fingers crossed until they ache that Waverly and I join in with the mingling 18s in the square. My heart's thumping and I want to grip onto her and never let go.

Our escort's almost incomprehensibly… warped speech doesn't make me laugh this year. It's probably a good thing because of all the grey faces of terrified 18 year olds surrounding me. There's a certain pallor a person gets when they're panicked and they almost all have it. Except one guy… Everdeen I think his name is. I wish I had his confidence, I really do.

It appears that my lack of confidence was well founded as the escort manages to shriek, "Waverly Faulkner!"

All my senses seem to have snapped together in a moment where time freezes. I'm seeing sounds and hearing smells in a confused jumble of noise, the smell of the people packed around me and the sight of that azure blue glove and the tiny white slip of paper it holds.

Time seems to start again as I sprint into the path between the age groups. The Peacekeepers run towards me as I yell, "Please, let me go instead, I volunteer! You need one girl and one guy, let me go as the male! I VOLUNTEER!" I roar as the entire square turns to face me in shock.

"NO, WES!" Waverly yells but I ignore her and march onwards. The escort leans forward to study me and I finally see an unnaturally hawkish face framed by brown feathers.

"Well isn't this exciting!" the escort shrieks, killing all of our ears with her now uninterrupted flow of sound, "Come on up young lad and let's get a name from you."

"Wes-Wesley Faulkner," I mumble into the awkwardly positioned microphone.

"Next up this year is a girl!" Piar screeches, once again muffled, "Ivy Laurel!"

I swear I've never seen someone give me a glare as full of hate as the one Ivy shoots me ever before in my life.

Enemy number 1: check.

**Ivy:**

I walk alone to the Reapings.

No brothers, no sisters, no friends and no one to remember me if I die except my parents who are so enraptured by their business I doubt they'd notice my death. The TV is crammed into the storeroom behind bundles of stuff; I doubt they could even watch me die in HD if I got Reaped if they wanted to. I hope for my own sake as much as theirs that they don't want to watch me die.

That's just something else to add to my list of things I want to do before I die: be remembered for _something_. Martyrdom isn't exactly my idea of success; I want to be remembered for being alive. Being remembered for killing is just as bad. I would hate to be remembered only because you've killed so many times that it seems like an achievement.

Piar Kelva is notorious for her horrible plastic surgery, even when you could still see her face, and she hasn't improved since. I guess she thinks it'll make her more popular and get her a promotion but really it's just hideous. I'd say she hasn't been replaced for the sole reason that no one wants to use the mike after her, least of all after her using it for years on end.

Even the thought of touching it makes me want to puke.

I can't even hear her speech as my heart beat fills my eardrums which is both a blessing and a curse; a blessing because we don't have to listen to her and a curse because we're alone with our thoughts while we pray we aren't going to our death. It remains this way until "Waverley Faulkner" is suddenly picked up by the mike and parroted around the square by dodgy speakers.

A wave of relief so strong rolls over me and dulls my senses so that I barely even notice that there's a commotion as her brother finally gets on the stage as a volunteer.

It takes me a second to realise that this means a girl can still be Reaped. It takes only a second longer to hear the name.

Not just any name, my name.

"Ivy Laurel!"

I know that in my heart I would do the same thing if I was in his shoes, I couldn't watch my sister go to her death, to be hurt by another person, but right now I'm not exactly thinking logically.

Instead, my first target has been located, Wesley Faulkner is so, so dead.

**Wes:**

Wade and Wanda are the first two to come in to say goodbye.

"Hey little bro… good luck," Wade manages to say, his tears leaving tracks through the coal dust on his face.

Wanda just sobs and hugs her little brother goodbye. I know that she's saying goodbye, I can feel it in the desperation of her hug and the wracking sobs as she grips me like a lifeline.

Eventually Wade descends on the group hug to join in the tear-shedding family sobfest until they both get pulled out.

Wanda tries to keep holding on, but the Peacekeepers just drag her away without as much as a glance at her or me.

Next are my parents.

I don't see them too often; Mother is a maid for a richer family in the merchant part of District 12 and father works in the mines just like everyone else in this hole.

That doesn't change the fact that they're the faces of my childhood. The people I turned to when I had a nightmare, the ones who buy me everything I own but most importantly they're my _parents_. I came out of them and I still owe them that, even if I can't repay them.

"You were so brave," Mother sobs as she runs forward and hugs me, running her fingers through my hair like I'm 5 again, leaping into her arms after I had a bad dream, "I'm so proud of you."

I nod into her arms as if to tell her 'I know' without making it obvious that tears are streaming down my cheeks and that the lump in my throat has rendered me mute.

Father tries to mask his emotions but I can still see the trickle of tears from the corners of his eyes.

Seeing my father cry is somehow worse than Wade and Wanda's hugging and sobbing, worse even than Mother's tears. Father is the rock, the one who's always there for us and never cries. Father is always the one who can't be talked down or abused, he's always just… him.

His tears shatter my resolve; my hopes of winning seem watered down by the trickle of his tears.

Then they too have to leave- forever.

Leaving Waverly. The one I want to see the most but also the one I'll never be able to say goodbye to.

The last thing I expect is Waverly storming in and slapping me right across the face, "Wave- what are you doing?" I take a step back from her as she suddenly bursts into tears- females.

"How can you leave me, Wes?" she sobs, "How can you let me go on without my big twin brother? I need you! I can't go on without you here…"

"I couldn't just let you go and die, Wave. You're my sister and you're more important than little old me."

She manages a weak smile at 'old.' All of about 5 minutes of old. "I'm not more important than you Wes… I need you…"

"I need you too but sometimes you have to think about more than yourself and I won't let you die when I could take your place. You know I have the better chance if nothing else. My thick skull will ensure that."

She can't even manage a wan smile as she leaps into my arms and I hug her until the Peacekeepers lead her away.

She hasn't even been gone for 5 seconds when I feel her absence like a hole in my heart. A hole that's never going to be filled. I may have the better chance of the two of us but that's barely a chance at all.

**Ivy:**

I've gone from promising Wes Faulkner's death at the Reapings to sobbing at the Goodbyes. Yay for mood swings…

No guests come for me.

I guess it's easier for my parents to stay at their shop and pretend they don't have a daughter than to come and visit her when they know she's probably headed towards her doom.

Instead of the bubbling anger that my Reaping inspired in me, the lack of goodbyes makes me feel empty. I'm definitely independent and not exactly the open, friendly type but does that really mean that no one cares enough to come see me off to my death?

It's not like I'm a bad person, I try to help people whenever I can and the idea of having to intentionally harm another human being is almost physically repulsive to me. Killing for your own safety is never going to be right in my eyes. Never.

I don't know how I'll be able to pull through the Games if I have to hurt or kill other people. The only reason I'm not a vegetarian is because it would kill me to decrease my food intake so much by eating no meat.

I still desperately want to prove myself to the Capitol, to the whole of Panem. I want to shine and be able to be different from everyone else and while I know that I can do that in the Capitol, I don't know if I can force myself to lift a weapon to kill so many other people. 23 kids who are just like me, poor and dragged away from their families while faced with the enormity of the eternal night every second.

While I have a party with myself, I can hear Wes' family each taking their turn to wish him good luck and see him off onto the train.

I can't avoid being envious of the compassion he receives while I'm here, all alone.

Story of my life.

**It's kinda short but totally done; NO MORE REAPINGS! PARTY!**

**Also: Page 6 of the archive, _really_? I updated _yesterday_.**


	15. Midnight Train to Hell Station

**I hope this chapter manages to remind you that they're all still just kids (except maybe Calvin and Fleur, they're bordering on demon spawn) since I think the movie might lose some of that with all the 20-something actors.**

**I'll try doing a chapter a day (I'll have to to keep up with the archive at any rate…) for a little while at least. Probably up to the blood bath when I want to start the suspense :D**

**Brony test: spot the MLP reference. **

**And a well-this-is-awkward-moment. Let's try Millie, take two. Clearly she didn't work how I intended her to in the Reapings so I rewrote it (check it out, I uploaded it just then too) and if you don't want her to survive by the end of training, I'll just go die in a hole.**

**Aglaeca Grenier: (District 1)**

I never thought I'd say this coming from District 1 but the train car is _brilliant_.

Avoxes wait on our every word, I've already had a shower and I've wrapped myself in an enormous, fluffy bathrobe that smells of strawberries. We've been offered plenty of snacks filled with strange fruits and sugary sweets like chocolate and candy but the drinks were restricted to hot chocolate, orange juice and water. No caffeine for the tributes.

Well at least no caffeine until Felix picked the lock on the drinks car and returned with 'energy drinks' from the Capitol and a few bottles of beer. This means I'm in a drunken stupor as we almost fly along the train tracks towards the Capitol.

"I'm smashed aren't I?" I slur to Felix who's draining a beer while watching some strange Capitol game show where the contestants dress up in weird costumes and jump down waterslides and stuff. It looks like fun…

"Ah-yup," he replies, his leg hanging over the edge of the couch as he sprawls backwards. I'm only a few centimetres away with my head only just resting on the back of the couch while the rest of my body lounges over the plush cushions. Normally I'd be really uptight about being on a couch with one of my competitors but I'm drunk and he's definitely hot.

"You're really good looking, you know that right?" I blurt. Bad habit… meh.

"You don't drink often, do you Aglaeca?" Felix replies casually as he tosses the bottle perfectly into a trash chute, his blue eyes glinting.

"Nope, the 'rents won't let me…" I slur back. I've never been interested in trying it before when I've been training anyway. Now I'm even more uninhibited than normal and it's fun.

"I guessed that," he grins as I grab a cushion and smack him around the head before leaping out of his reach as he prepares to hit me back with his cushion. He's fast as he crushes a can of energy drink and pelts it at the cushion in my hand before leaping over the back of the couch.

I've got the cushion a few metres from his face when our mentors walk in.

Great first impression.

"So what do you think?" I ask them.

There's general face-palming all round.

**Calvin Emil: (District 2)**

The train is cool.

Fleur and I got orange juice as soon as we got on along with little bags of lollies and potato 'chips.' It's yummy.

There's still a lack of blood to finish it off and the train car is boring silver, no red anywhere. The Avoxes' tongues look funny and I want to try it out but there aren't any cats around and I can't do it to Fleur. That would be mean.

Maybe the escort, she talks a lot and talks to us like babies. If it weren't for the fact that I wouldn't get to see the hearts in the Games if I cut out the tongue of our escort it would be fun to make her be quiet.

Our mentor is nice. He's about 25 and named Brutus. He knows what it's like to want to see blood and kill people. He's nicer than all the other people who run away from us, pulling away all of that fresh meat that we could use. Maybe there will be more Capitol people after me and Fleur win their Games. They would have big stomachs and lots of things you could play with inside them. Their skin is different colours, maybe their hearts would be too and we could collect lots of different colours of hearts.

The other mentor keeps talking to us like babies until Fleur smashed a glass over her head.

She looked kinda funny with the little bits of glass out of her head and the trickles of blood running down her face were pretty.

She was too surprised to wipe it off and it got in her eye. Blood looks really cool when you blink it over your eye and it mixes with all the water stuff on people's eyes. Then it was like she was crying blood and her face started going all red.

Maybe people crying when I play with them would be better if I could make them cry blood too.

I can't wait until the blood bath.

I wonder if I could drink blood…

**Flo Wren: (District 3)**

The furniture in the train is all wrong.

There's no rocking chair in the corner, Gran isn't sitting on the non-existent armchair, Mother isn't washing the dishes at 5.50, the bedroom door is on the wrong wall in relation to where we came in, the couch faces west but sometimes it turns and faces south, the train jolts at uneven intervals and the room is 102% lighter than the inside of my house.

That's not even counting the colour of the wallpaper and all the glasses around the room that could get glass shards in my hand if the train moves.

As soon as I got onto the train I grabbed every glass I could find and put them all in a ring around me before gripping my legs in a ball with my eyes closed and my fingers in my ears.

I still can't mask the smell; that fresh carpet smell that doesn't have a hint of mildew or the burnt stench of old electronics. There's the scent of fresh food wafting around the train and the funny smell of Lucas' sweat.

It's so wrong-everything's wrong.

The train left on time at the very least. Our escort understands the need for things to be on time. Since then we've been moving constantly and the escort is still in her bedroom so I don't know what time we're going to stop so I have a headache because I can't go up to my room at home at 5:37 and I can't go to my room here at the same time because it isn't the right room.

I feel a tapping on my shoulder and slightly open one eye to see Lucas standing over me with a glass filled with orange juice.

"You want any?" he asks.

"Don't you?" I reply, trying to seem cordial before I burrow back into the safe blackness of my arms.

"I'm not drinking anything the _Capitol_ gives me," he spits.

I check the time; 3:28. No, I can't have a drink now; my next drink isn't scheduled until 3:30. I can't drink before that.

"No, I can't," I reply, my breathing getting faster as I think about drinking before the allotted time. It would make me sick, it would make things wrong again and then I'd have even more wrong until it killed me. Wrongness is like bad karma, my wrong timing is why I got Reaped, everything was wrong today, is wrong today.

"You sure? You look… off," he says, not taking away the glass.

"NO!" I push the glass away, but Lucas was holding it at the top so it tips over.

The orange juice splashes all over my clothes.

I can't have anything on my clothes, they can't get a stain, I can't wear anything that isn't dry.

I sprint into the bedroom assigned to me, rifling through the clothes in the closet that I can choose from for the arrival at the station. They have to be right; they have to be the same type as my other clothes.

Whenever I need new clothes in District 3 I have to specifically find something that feels right like the clothes I had before. They have to feel the same, feeling different would be wrong, it wouldn't be the same as it had been.

Nothing in the drawers feels the same as what I'm wearing.

I toss off the clothes I'm wearing so I can let them dry off while I wash the juice off my body; the feeling of it is unclean.

The shower water is too hot, the soap suds start immediately and they cover my body before I can get rid of them and wash it all off with hot water then cold water like my normal shower, the temperature has to be exactly right. Then I get a bar of soap but it's so smooth that I have to scratch it with my nails to make it rough like my soap at home but then I get soap under my nails and I have to scrape it out.

This means that I have to rush the rest of my shower to finish after 3 minutes and 21 seconds.

When I get out, the shower doesn't drip and each drip that doesn't happen makes my head spin. My body burns from not scrubbing it for the full portion of time but I can't stay in the shower too long; it would be more wrong.

Back in the bedroom, my clothes have vanished to be replaced with a pale green shirt and black pants.

They don't feel right.

The blackness in my ball doesn't feel right either without right clothes.

I want to go home.

**Felix Haas: (District 4)**

Oh yeah, I'm almost at the Games.

Already I've been delivered a hot towel by some servants, a cool, sugary drink and had a boiling hot shower and dressed in a tight training shirt and baggy running shorts.

This is the life.

Better yet; I'll have even more time to get used to it after the Games when I win. I'll be living it up every day with all the food I could want, all the servants and I'll never work another day. No more fishing, just a blissful retirement at the age of 16.

Summer's looking green.

A Career, whose parent was a victor of the Hunger Games and yet she looks like she's about to start crying like a baby. Pathetic, I almost agree with all those other Districts that reckon District 4 is always the weak link in the Careers. She's a perfect example.

I want to grab another drink to tide over the time until my glorious arrival at the station in the Capitol but Summer has her chair in front of it. She's such a waste of my time; I don't know why the even bothered bringing her since she's just going to die.

"Move it," I try and push the chair aside, just like she'll be a pushover in the arena.

"No, piss off," she growls back, reaching behind her and pulling out a drink.

I know we aren't allowed to start fighting before the arena but as she opens the 'lid' and starts drinking, I'm sorely tempted. She takes another sip and lets out a huge 'ah' and I make up my mind. There are places you can hit without leaving an exterior mark and she definitely deserves it.

As she goes to drink again, I smash her in the stomach and she jolts back and I reckon I've beaten her.

Then she rolls back forward and spits her drink all over my shiny new tribute shirt.

That bitch is going to pay.

She grins and drains the rest of the drink before crushing it and throwing it so it bounces off my forehead, leaving an ugly red mark on my perfectly tanned features.

"Problem beaky?"

No one insults my nose. I don't care if I get reprimanded for killing my District partner before the Games; it'll just remind everyone that Felix Haas is a bad-ass who should not be messed with.

My hand is flying towards her throat and she's sliding off her chair and slips between my legs to come back up behind me when Whale the psycho escort walks in.

"Ooo, excited for the Games are we? Wonderful! Just keep that enthusiasm in check until the Games when you can share it with everyone, not just me!" he grins, his tone sounding so wrong with his 'whale' voice.

"Now, now children?" he keeps talking, going up on the end of each sentence like it's a question? As Summer and I keep glaring at each other? "Oh dear, what has happened to that shirt of yours? You must get cleaned up? Summer, you should get changed into your uniform too?"

As we go into opposite rooms I glare at her; _you__haven__'__t__won__anything__yet,__bitch_.

She replies, _bring__it_.

**Joey Cox: (District 5)**

The train is pretty…

There's so much I can draw, from the little things like the perfect curvature of the walls to the curving couch with the red velvet, unlike anything I've seen in District 5, down to the tiny things like the bubbles floating through the drinks we were given as soon as we got onto the train.

The liquid changes colours constantly, making it almost impossible to draw as I have to keep changing colour until I have a rainbow drink that mimics catching the light streaming through the gilt window frame and filtering through the glowing strips on the ceiling.

I've put the finishing touches on a copy of the spiral pattern dyed into the carpet when I feel a slight tap on my shoulder.

Spinning around, I see Apollo looking nervously over my shoulder, "Uh… hi. They delivered some food but you were concentrating so I thought I'd wait until you were done… It's really good you know!"

In Apollo's hand is a plate half filled with biscuits of all different kinds and a nervous smile on his face.

"Thanks, that was really nice of you Apollo," I reply as he smiles a little bit more, tapping his feet anxiously as I take the plate from him, "Don't you want any?"

"Er… the plate wasn't half full when I got it…" he looks slightly abashed.

"That's okay, you didn't have to wait for me, I know Dave, Karla and Leana wouldn't wait, Dave's appetite is bigger than his brain sometimes…" I reply, trying to put him at ease. I don't mind if he ate them, one person and her three imaginary friends only have one stomach after all.

"Dave, Karla and Leana? Are they your friends?" Apollo asks, trying to keep up the conversation.

"I know they're not real, it's just nice to have friends who aren't people…" I answer as Apollo nods earnestly.

"That sounds cool!"

I'm thinking about something to say in reply when one of the servants walks in to clear up the empty plates and glasses that we've left on the floor.

Her jaw and neck look a little funny but they wouldn't… would they?

She looks a little like Dread Knight Asmodeus looked after Dave as the High King cut his tongue in punishment for spreading deceit in the land of Joevia.

Surely that doesn't happen in real life… no, I must be confused.

I grab my pencil and start drawing the servant girl like she's in High King Dave's world in a fancy dress with a smile on her face and a whole tongue clearly visible. She's talking to a little night in shining armour who was originally going to be Dave but I realised as I finished the last bit of fur on his shiny gauntlet that it looks more like Apollo, maybe a little older than he is now.

I'd totally forgotten he was still there and when I look up, I realise he's been watching me draw for the last hour or so.

"Here," I wrap up the picture into a little roll and give it to him, "It's for you. Thanks for waiting to give me the biscuits; the carpet in that picture is like this carpet so you can have a little bit of the picture too…"

Apollo grins like a light bulb has flicked on behind his face as he takes the picture, "Thanks!"

He's nice… I wish I knew him back in District 5 and he and Dave could have been friends… maybe he could ride a horse or even a griffin… wasn't I going to draw a griffin earlier?

Maybe gold…

**Wolfgang Ardenne: (District 6)**

I'm finally here in the Games; I haven't chickened out. I'm ready to prove to my father that I can make it on my own.

I'm so ready to use my German kickassery on anyone who thinks that they can beat me when we get to the arena.

"Hey Taryn, you ready for the Games?" I ask as she remains silently curled up in her chair with her arms folded. If ever I saw someone with a black cloud hanging over someone's head it was here now. You'd think someone had already died.

"Oh yeah, I'm loving the fact that I'm heading to my potential death soon with an insensitive git. It's exactly what I want to be doing with my morning," I doubt she could have slathered that sentence with more venom without turning into a snake.

"So not a Capitol fan then?" I ask evenly as though we're having a polite conversation.

"What do you think, moron?"

"I'll take that as a… no," she gives me a death stare as I pause between the 'a' and the 'no,' "They are just a little bit obnoxious aren't they? At least they know how to make their digs comfortable," I lean back in my chair and kick out the footrest.

"Because how comfortable their 'digs' are is really important right now," she snaps. Apparently taking a joke; not her forte. I mean, surely it's not because of me, is it?

"Yup, if we're going out we might as well go out in style. Besides, I wouldn't let the Capitol get to me without at least eating all their food first. You have to get something out of them," I grin as she rolls her eyes.

Right as it almost gets awkward, in comes the escort. This will be fun.

"Come on now you two, you must get out of those rags into something more fashionable! What on earth are you wearing Taryn? It looks like it has blood on it!"

"Yep," she replies.

"Don't be so disrespectful to your elders! Now go get changed. Now. I'll hear nothing more about it until you do it!" he taps his foot impatiently on the ground and delivers a glare even more impressive than Taryn's until we both go to get changed.

Not that I'm giving up that easily.

When I return to the sitting room with Taryn, I have the numbered shirt in my arms and I waggle my eyebrows at Taryn as her eyes flick over rather unsubtly. Still, she's not the target of my 'unfortunate' but highly attractive shirtlessness.

"How do you put this thing on? That darn head hole ain't big enough for no head and there ain't no buttons on it!" I put on an over the top District 10 accent and put on an overdone look of slack-jawed stupidity.

I can see Taryn poorly concealing a grin and the escort who wandered in, vaguely following the escort, with an empty smile on his face.

The escort himself looks aghast, "Don't they teach you anything in those Districts! Shocking, you don't even know how to wear a shirt!"

"This ain't no shirt, there ain't no buttons on it!" I reply, acting equally involved in the trivial conversation.

He grabs the shirt but as he pulls it over my head I 'accidentally' head butt him in the face. Then as I step back as though dazed, when really I know how to head butt someone when I want to (thanks Father), I grab his shirt to stop myself falling backwards but really I tear it and then roll so that he smacks straight down on his face while I lie on the carpet with my arms crossed casually behind my head after yanking the shirt on neatly.

As the escort sprints out of the room, bawling his head off, I ask, "Now that he's dealt with, anyone up for pizza?"

**I decided to split it there so it doesn't become a chore to read since this section is the length of an average Reaping for me. Still, the other half is up now if you want to read them consecutively.**


	16. Destination: Capitol

**104 Reviews; you guys are awesome. Don't fight over who's crazier (because I'll win by a landslide) but we're all crazy here. Aren't we?**

**4 people have voted and all 8 votes were different. I like that; it means that I've managed to make the tributes likeable in different ways. **

**By the way: no one answered; chariots by rookie stylist Regan Vale or by the tributes?**

**Kaya Lambert: (District 7)**

I can remember the first time I met Sean at the Liam's logging site.

He seemed quiet and uncomfortable talking to people as he stood awkwardly across from me, waiting for me to tell him what to do.

I could tell he was pathetic with an axe as soon as we started cutting the tree and I thought he was useless from when I first saw him with one. What's the point in being in District 7 if you can't use an axe?

A few hours in he started complaining about his hand and grunting every time he swung his axe. Finally I got sick of him and asked, "What's wrong, has baby got a splinter?"

Sean nodded and showed me as he stepped out from behind the enormous red cedar.

There was blood streaming down his arm from a foot long splinter imbedded the whole way up his arm. I was amazed that he'd managed to stop himself from complaining for so long, he just kept cutting.

That was the first time I had any respect for Sean Dorsin and he's never lost it since, he's always been the nice guy, willing to do whatever he can to keep people happy no matter what it costs him.

I can't kill the guy. I can't be the one to kill him but I also can't watch him die in front of me.

Which means that I have to ignore him, for his own sake.

I have to leave him in the care of someone else and let him find his own way to winning. At the same time, I can't bear the thought of losing, of never seeing Zoe and Alana again, but I can't kill him with my own hands.

If I go home with Sean's blood on my hands, I'll never forgive myself.

I might never forgive myself if he dies because I wasn't his ally; but I'd rather that than the certainty of him dying because I couldn't save him. I just can't be directly responsible for the sweetest guy I've ever met.

"So… Kaya… sorry you got Reaped. I would volunteer for you if I could but… I couldn't…" Sean starts nervously. I know that he isn't normally a conversation starter so it must be important to him to say it to me.

"Don't, Sean. I can't be your ally in the arena so please, don't make it harder for me…" I turn away but that doesn't mean I don't know the slapped puppy expression I know he gets whenever someone turns him away.

"Oh… okay…" he replies weakly.

It's as I hear that simple phrase that I think the Games kill the first part of me inside.

**Blaze Valentine: (District 8)**

The cameras love me as I get onto the train.

I could even name a couple from being used as a model for some of the designs that come out of the District 8 factories. Karlas and Siam have been around forever and give me the thumbs up as I grin at the camera and flex my muscles a bit while Piper smiles dazzlingly at the cameras beside me.

The Capitol will be calling for the District 8 tributes this year; the model and the girl with a sincere smile.

"Hey, you're a real natural with the cameras. Where'd you learn?" I ask. A little harmless flirting can't hurt while fishing for allies. Dria's still the one in my heart, no matter how much I might like a good flirt once in a while.

"Oh, I just enjoy a good smile every now and then. As they say, a smile doesn't cost anything!" she replies brightly.

Our escort, who appears determined to break through the personal space barrier and maintain creepy contact at all times, agrees, vigorously nodding his head, "Oh yes, I've always said that but no one ever listens to me unlike you, dear girl!"

He touches her arm but instead of letting go like a normal person, he holds on and beams at her.

Her eyes flash slightly as she glances at the sweaty appendage before she smiles again, this time with slightly more difficulty, and replies, "Why thank you, it's nice to know we'll get along great!"

Our escort dashes out of the room to do something and suddenly Piper's features relax and she leans against the couch with a bored expression, picking her nails.

When the sound of his approaching footsteps becomes apparent she sits back up and smiles at the incoming escort as he places a disc into the television screen.

"Let's all watch the Reapings and see what we can find with the other tributes!" he bounces to the chair as the movie starts.

"Sure, that'll be interesting," Piper agrees, once again with the strange gleam in her eyes.

District 1: Hot and dude.

District 2: Creepy and young and creepy and young dude.

District 3: Too young and slightly crazy-looking and aw cute kid.

District 4: Not bad and dude.

District 5: Not bad and young-looking volunteer kid.

District 6: Not bad and really tall guy.

District 7: Hot and dude.

District 8: Us!

District 9: Not bad and dude.

District 10: Hot and dude.

District 11: Not bad and dude.

District 12: Hot and dude.

"Could you do me a favour and get me that drink?" I ask, pointing towards the tray of drinks next to her elbow.

"Sure, but you'll owe me a favour in return," she smiles as she passes across the drinks. She smiles a lot. It's getting a bit weird but hey, I'd rather happy than depressed in an ally.

"What kind of favour?"

"Oh I don't have one now, I'll think of something in the near future," she replies as she sips her own drink delicately.

"Do you want to be in an alliance?" I ask after a while more of meaningless chatter and several run throughs of the Reapings which I get the feeling are more for the benefit of our enthralled escort than us.

"Haha, thanks for the offer but I'm more of a lone wolf. It was nice of you to ask though," she smiles brightly again.

Really?

The pretty, smiling District 8 girl thinks she's a lone wolf.

The escort runs out, unannounced again as I ask her, "Are you sure, I wouldn't mind having you tag along. I'm sure you could help out and I wouldn't have any trouble with an extra member."

"So you can flirt with me too Blaze 'Valentine?' Hah, like I'd need to 'tag along' with you. You're not even worth stabbing because of the effort it would take to clean the blade. Look hurt all you want, it won't make a difference to the fact I'll be more than happy to move you out of my way with a knife to get home to Ves and Tison. Have a nice night if you want, I don't care," she waves her hand as she walks into her bedroom.

I need to watch out for her.

I was totally fooled by her 'nice girl' act.

I miss my family…

**Kristy Greene: (District 9)**

I still feel woozy when I land on the train in a heap on the floor.

Amazingly it's really uncomfortable, especially when Ahab kicks aside my foot to reach a chair. Other than that, he just sits down, stares out the window and ignores me. That's nice of him.

I'm still blocking the doorway when our escort bundles in and immediately starts fussing over me, dabbing at my head and exclaiming that she can't believe the Peacekeepers would leave me in this state before the Games.

Eventually she decides the best thing for me is a 'nice, hot shower' and shoves me into the cubicle fully clothed.

When she leaves, I get rid of my bloodied Reaping outfit and sink into the shower, running the hot water and pressing a whole heap of random chromed buttons indented into the wall.

I get childish pleasure out of pressing as many buttons as I can until I get smacked in the face by a cushioned face-scrubbing-thingy and crushed from every angle by something that the button calls a 'loofah.' No idea what it is but the machine uses it like a metal plate scourer until my entire body feels like it's covered in raw, fresh skin.

Still, I can't resist the urge to press one last button and get rewarded with a spray of cinnamon and orange perfume. It smells nice, whatever cinnamon is. I've seen oranges but obviously cinnamon is something fancy in the Capitol.

When I finally decide to jump out of the shower, a clean uniform has been laid out with number 9s on the sleeves of the shirt and light cargo pants but no shoes.

Ahab's still sitting exactly how he was when we arrived and I sneak up behind him and jump out at him.

Still he doesn't move.

It's sort of creepy. Still, he can't sit like that forever and some time I'm going to get him to move and talk like a normal human being.

Because I'm a perfect specimen of normality.

When the escort realises I've returned, she leaps out and forces some pills on me to 'relieve the pain' which I barely even notice.

You don't live in the Districts, least of all when you have a habit of pranking the Peacekeepers, without at least a little bit of pain tolerance.

I pretend to be tired to have another crack at getting Ahab to move when he's unsuspecting.

As soon as I lie on my bed though, I realise that they weren't so much pain killers as tranquilisers. From the feeling of drowsiness, probably tranquilisers for something like those 'horses' in District 10.

Which means I have to act quickly before I pass out.

I grab a small trash bin that's in the corner of the room, I don't even know what trash I could have so it's probably just for 'the look,' and fill it with boiling water from the shower.

I open the door silently and toss the water all the way from the doorway over Ahab's head.

His jaw clenches as he growl, "Enough," and remains sitting in his chair, covered in water and left over soap suds.

I only get time to think 'Someone's clearly a sociable guy' before I pass out on the floor.

**Matt Hanson: (District 10)**

Some part of my mind refuses to accept that I'm in the Hunger Games, no matter how irrational the rest of my mind knows that part is.

My muscles aren't yet clenched in terror, the lump in my throat is barely noticeable and I can still breathe like I'm in District 10 even if the air is filtered unnatural and noticeably lacking in eau de horse dung. That's a bad thing, the stench of incontinent horse is one of the strongest memories I have of home and it's already fading like the borders of District 10 through the windows of the train carriage.

Instead, my mind's decided to go AWOL and leave me feeling angsty about the fact that I never had many friends back in District 10 and my brother told me that he was happy I was Reaped.

Am I really that unlikeable?

"Why's the horse got your head?" Scarlett asks as my elbows dig into my knees after my head flops onto it. It's a saying in District 10; other Districts say 'why the long face?' but everyone in District 10 knows horses have longer faces than any depressed human ever will.

"No one likes me…" I mumble stupidly. Logic tells me that I shouldn't care about people and what they think, least of all before the Games, but logic isn't the only benefactor in my emotional state. Unfortunately hormones and societal norms have an infuriatingly large stake in my behaviour as well.

"Haha, you really think no one likes you, Matt Hanson?" she asks, laughing slightly.

"Why's that funny? You've got more friends than I'll ever have," I reply as she rolls her eyes. It's a dismissive gesture but she doesn't seem to be being abusive about it. It seems I have a lot to learn about the other tributes before the Games start.

"You think you're unpopular? You're more popular than I'll ever be," she says derisively. I'm about to ask who says that I'm popular when she cuts me off, doing a 'shh' gesture, "Shut it. Now, Mr. Hanson, every single teenager in our District owes something to you. From some kid who you stopped getting beaten up, like me just this morning, to some kid who'd been beating up someone else that morning that you still helped do their work. Just because we don't always talk to you doesn't mean we don't like you. Hell, it's not like it matters anyway; my best friend Hallie has had a rush on you for ages. She's wanted to ask you out for ages but is too nervous too because everyone thinks of you as a sort of god-like figure, protecting the downtrodden and the wealthy alike in your own little way. So don't you tell me that you don't have friends got it?"

Scarlett's glare could melt an iron bar as she dares me to disagree with her. She's certainly more impressive when she wants to be. "Yes," I nod, "I have a large quantity of friends and admirers, to use the colloquial term; got it."

"Good boy," Scarlett says, ruffling my hair as she walks past, "have a drink," she drops a can into my lap.

"Woof."

I get another pat.

**Millie Sun Mallard: (District 11)**

As soon as I get into the train carriage I manage to drag myself to the food dispenser in the corner, before the servants come around to serve us.

I order everything I can touch and then descend on the plate like the fate of the world depends on me inhaling it without choking or stopping to breathe.

Food has never tasted so good; I can't fault the Capitol for the quality of their food. It's so delicious and juicy and all the sugar makes me want to bounce off the walls.

When I finally sit down, trying to avoid puking, Denver is looking out the window, watching the orchards pass by.

Those orchards are the ones I've worked on since I turned 8. We all turn and watch the trains go by whenever they come, taking a moment off work to watch the glistening tube fly by and to salute the tributes that we all knew passed on it.

Now I'm the one being saluted and it makes me feel slightly sad. I don't want to leave my home, no matter how little of it there is left.

That's still not going to stop me from proving them wrong. No way am I going to die in the Games, no matter how hungry I was at the Reapings. Greg and Sash need their third wheel.

Denver's eyes keep snapping towards me at random intervals before snapping away. Like he expects me to be doing something but then looks away when he realises I'm just sitting here.

"What do you want?" I ask when his eyes flicker towards me again.

"Sorry, did you say something?" he rumbles. Man his voice is really, crazily deep.

"Why do you keep looking at me?" I ask again, emphasising each word while wondering how he didn't hear me the first time. I'm not loud but I didn't think I was that quiet.

"Sorry," he replies, looking slightly hurt as his eyes flicker away.

Aw crap, I always seem to do everything wrong with people. I'm not really a people person to put it lightly.

"Want a drink?" I ask as I stomp over to the drinks machine in the corner of the train car. He gives me a querying look again before looking at the drinks machine and nodding. There's something a bit funny about him, that's for sure. Hopefully the good kind of funny as well.

"Give me another one," he calls as I'm about to walk back to my chair.

He snatches the next one out of the air as I toss it, looking quizzical, and starts juggling. After the first few nervous tosses he grins at me, "Cool, eh? I've been practicing for ages with fruit whenever I have free time during a break and not enough food to eat through it. Chuck me another one; come on, one more time. Please?" he fails drastically at over-excited puppy dog eyes.

He actually seems like a nice guy… hopefully it'll make the time in the lead-up to the Games more fun at least. After that I don't even want to think about, being depressed isn't any fun; Exhibit A being my father.

I grab one more drink and he doesn't stop juggling as I hold it, waiting for him to stop so he can catch it, "Come on, throw it," he says as I continue to look at him doubtfully.

I throw it and he manages to keep the new can in check, but he messes up catching the one in the air over his head and the can crunches on his head, spraying foaming drink all over his head from the can nestled in his hair.

"You wanna try?" he asks, holding out the two unbroken cans while brown drinks pours off his arms.

I love nice guys.

**Wes Faulkner: (District 12)**

Ivy either glares at me or looks away as we sit on chairs on opposite sides of the room on the train. Personally I'm fine with sitting with Ivy but she sat as far away as possible and made it clear that she was doing it.

At least I got the armchair- less chance of coming into contact with The Implants. Seeing them up close, I reckon they deserve the Capitol letters. Pun definitely intended. Meanwhile Ivy is sitting on a two seater couch next to our escort's room; I'm already attempting not to laugh.

"So how's the train ride going for you?" I ask, attempting to break the ice. Not that it's possible to break some of the ice; I swear the cabin's at least 20˚C cooler than the air outside. Those implants must create a heck of a lot of sweat. First thing I like about the Capitol; they have these fluffy pants and jackets that are so warm and comfortable that I would never take them off in District 12.

"Shut up."

"Hey, what did I do?" I ask, genuinely wondering why my first potential ally is so hostile.

"We're going to the Hunger Games together and you wonder why I don't trust you? Really?" she replies, beginning her glaring again.

"You're my District partner. I wouldn't kill you."

"It's not… it's not you killing that I'm worried about," she whispers back, her piercing glare flicking aside to focus on a join in the cabin wall.

After a prolonged awkward silence containing mostly awkward thumb twiddling and some sugary, bubbly drink that comes out of a metal contraption that gets crushed really easily, I sigh, "I miss my sister…"

"Well maybe you should've volunteered for a boy so you could go to your deaths together," Ivy snaps.

Apparently I've touched a nerve but I'm not sure if it's just the fact that she's in the Games instead of my sister that I've set her off about.

Between her and our escort, I get the feeling I'm going to have a thoroughly… uncomfortable train ride.

Girls…

**Chariots up ASAP but I want you guys to answer about whether it's from the POV of Regan or the tributes themselves.**


	17. Fairytales and Teary Fails

**Sorry this is late (more than 1 day) I had a family thingy which lasted longer than expected and then I got a horrible rash that made my eyes swell and yeah… dodgy week.**

**Remember, you can vote on the poll right up until the end of the interviews then I close it, Gamemaker's POV, Pre-Games then the blood bath. I think. I need to check how many POVs I have of each character for fairness. **

**12 different characters have been voted for. You know how many have more than 1 vote? 1. I'm not saying who but I think that's funny.**

**This is based on the assumption that District 5: Architecture and Genetic Engineering, District 6: Medicine and District 9: Hunting _and_ the new grain industry, even if we recently found out that's wrong. I started this story before I knew.**

**One use of the 's' word here because it didn't sound as funny without it.**

**Felix Hailstorm: (District 1)**

Aglaeca and I are clearly the tributes the stylists have decided are going to be the sex symbols for the Games.

I doubt the loincloth I'm wearing could be more revealing without a.) me being charged with public indecency (if it even exists in the Capitol which, as far as I can tell from their fashion sense, it doesn't) or b.) my hands becoming involved in the coverage of some vague shred of dignity. Apparently the stylists chose a fairy tale theme for the chariot rides which resulted in me becoming a Gladiator Zeus.

Apparently Zeus is some god in the old fairy tales of Panem before the Dark Days but I doubt the gods were waxed, covered in some type of bronzing oil and sprinkled with diamond dust glitter.

The bejewelled crown and the diamond lightning bolt? Maybe.

The _glitter?_

No way in hell would any god that I could imagine, if I could ever believe the gods existed in a world with the Hunger Games, wear glitter.

Meanwhile Aglaeca has the most revealing warrior's outfit I could conceivably think of as the hunting goddess Artemis. I mean, looking at practicality, you could be speared through both thighs without touching a piece of armour. Same goes for shoulders, stomach, feet; pretty much any part of her body that doesn't _have_ to be covered.

The bejewelled bow and sword are pretty cool but she can barely lift them, let alone fight with them.

As the President begins his speech to announce the start of the chariot rides my eyes flicker towards my District partner. Aglaeca's grimace could set fire to a small building if it was any deeper so I whisper to her, "Remember, look happy," with an exaggerated grin to emphasise my point.

"I look like a hooker who got trapped in a gem mine," she hisses back.

"Pretend you _enjoyed_ being a hooker in a gem mine," I reply as a hint of a smile appears on her face. We've got the best get-up, the best time slot and the best talent to earn us a ton of sponsors if she just looks like she's excited to be in the Capitol.

I can almost see Maximus and his stupid superior smirk looking down on me, telling me how I'm a useless wimp who could never be as good of a tribute as he would be.

His moronic face gives me an idea, "If you can't think of anything else to smile about, just think about how butt naked I am right now."

This sets her off as the doors open to allow our chariot out into the centre of the Capitol. I grin like a king, just thinking about how my brother's not standing here is enough to make me smile for the rest of eternity, as I wave at the crowds of adoring fans, flexing my muscles while Aglaeca grins, trying to avoid outright laughing.

The ride is over all too soon as we pull into the other end and Aglaeca cracks up laughing for about ten seconds then pulls herself together and grabs a horse blanket to cover up any unwanted skin showing.

I bet my brother never would've got all that attention, even if he was the tribute.

**Fleur Valentine Beahr: (District 2)**

Calvin and I are covered in blood.

But it's fake and came out of a bottle; no hearts.

Valentine might be good at being happy and waving but she's too scared to come out in the costume and Calvin won't convince her to.

They put me in a blue and white dress like a little girl but it didn't have any red so I wasn't going to wear it until the stylist put lots of fake blood on it. The little flat shoes are uncomfortable and don't have a good enough grip to crack someone's neck with. The mask is itchy, it's made of some type of clay called 'porcelain' and has big red cheeks and pits for the eyes and a drawn on mouth. If it didn't look so scary and have all the red on it I wouldn't wear it.

Finally I get a knife and Calvin gets a hatchet with a similar outfit but for a boy.

The District 1 people go first and they have so much flesh showing with their veins right near the surface that I could cut upon, so many muscles to tear and play with.

Brutus says we can't… "Don't worry kiddos; there'll be plenty in the arena. For now you just have to show that you want to kill."

I can see the other tributes moving away from Calvin and I and that's good, it means we get to play tag before we kill them so their hearts are pretty and red.

After we get onto the horse cars, the crowd falls silent while we come out. Calvin lifts the hatchet and slams it into the side of his white horse, letting out a spray of blood on the white horse.

It's a shame it's fake blood, it isn't shiny and red enough to be really pretty and it doesn't come from the heart.

Mommy always said a good gift comes from the heart.

I stab the knife into the centre of the horse's head so it looks like a prettiful unicorn with all the blood coming out of the pointy horn. As I do a burst of light comes from behind me so the area lights up then seems really dark as 'blood' comes off the horse.

It was even prettier than just the normal blood on the horse…

**Lucas Wre: (District 3)**

My chariot prep ended with a yelp as my stylist fastened a giant metal disk around my neck so that I can't even see my shoulders, let alone lower my chin.

"What are we meant to be wearing?" I ask as my stylist reappears with his head popping out under my arm.

"Old sun gods used to wear golden disks around their heads and necks," he replies, snaking unnaturally around my body to look at me again, moving the disc a little more.

"I don't think that this is what they meant by 'around their necks,'" I reply as he clicks his tongue.

"Oh of course they didn't, that would look silly!" he replies as though this was obvious, "No, this is for something else."

"Right…"

My chariot rides started with us looking really dumb.

Then there's the fact that our stylists gave Flo high heels so she's even taller and I look like a baby.

Everyone thinks I'm just some stupid, weak little kid.

I'm not but they're making me seem like one and all the people from the Capitol are going to be patronising me or laughing at me. "Aw look at the little baby Lucas, isn't he cute…"

That and the fact that we're wearing black leotards with gold discs around our necks.

At least the District 2 12 year olds look bad ass in their doll masks and knives.

Flo is already up on the chariot when District 1 is led out.

"Come on Lucas, the chariot leaves in 37 seconds, you have to get up here!" she panics while I roll my eyes.

"I'm not going. I look so stupid," I turn away from her. I don't care if the Capitol doesn't see me in the chariot rides; I'll be mortally embarrassed if my friends back home see me in this… thing. It's not like not going is going to kill me or anything.

Flo grabs the disc around my neck and everything spins for a moment as she knocks the air out of my lungs and drags me up onto the chariot.

I hack and cough as the doors open again and we start rolling out into the crowds of Capitol people.

Our costumes start flashing with light and I grin. It's like a battery when you zap someone with it; you get the little sparks and if you get enough you can make things explode. I once did it to my next door neighbour's car toy but he got angry at me, probably just because he was jealous.

Finally, right near the doors, the costumes fully light up and blind everyone in the audience.

Good, the Capitol took me and all these other kids away from their parents; no way should they get to enjoy seeing our costumes. It's not fair if they force us to look stupid and they don't have to without at least getting blinded by the lightning suits.

**Summer Ciel: (District 4)**

Felix and I still aren't getting along; who'd have thought?

He's still whining about the soft drink I spat all over him, how the stylists ripped out his perfect little hairs and how the stylist used too much fake tan and ruined his complexion.

I've lived with the victors in District 4 my whole life and I've never known someone so arrogant and vain.

He's wearing the scariest costume, except those two from District 2 but they're in such a different league of 'creepy' that I'm not even going to go there, but still 'it's itchy' or 'those knives aren't blunt enough.'

"Hey, merman! I've got a nice glass of water that I'm sure will match your costume unless you fill your mouth with some 'shut the heck up,'" I snap finally as he shakes his body up and down because it's 'too heavy' and makes an enormous clanging noise that kills my eardrums.

We're both merpeople (yeah, real original on the part of the stylists) but while I appear destined to join the 'Capitol guys are perves' contest that's apparently going on with a shell wraparound and painfully tight fish tail leggings, he's got a thick, golden tail, 'scales' made of knives and a trident and yet he complains about his costume.

"I'm killing you the second we split in the arena. I'll spit drink on your organs and give you the glass in your mouth as well as your water, just because it'll make me happy," he growls.

"Yeah right, you won't even live that long beaky," I hiss back as the doors open so he can't reply while we force grins and wave.

He kicks my foot slightly to try and set me off balance while I tap his shoulder slightly in return causing him to sway and grab my neck in a 'hug' on the return swing.

We both grin at the cheering crowd as I grab him around the waist and squeeze until he's panting for breath.

I wonder what Logan would be thinking now, watching me in my mermaid costume while I choke the air out of some moron guy… but no. I'm not going to think about him when I know I might have to never see him again. I _will_ succeed. I will win and no one can stop me.

Least of all dippy in the knife shirt over there.

When we get to the end of the chariot ride, he picks up the cup of water from underneath his tail and tips it all over my head as he pushes me off the side of the chariot with a swagger, "I win, bitch."

You haven't yet, Felix Hass.

A best of three appears to be in order.

**Apollo Crete: (District 5)**

Joey has our stylist wrapped in a bear hug that lifts Joey off the ground until she's giving her a strangle hold at the same time.

I can see why; we look awesome.

Since making costumes related to the building industry of District 5 are dead boring, our stylist has once again focussed on the obscure, side industry of genetic modification.

She's really gone all out with the fantasy theme and it looks amazing.

Joey is a harpy (the people with wings) in golden 'armour' that's probably about two millimetres thick and I'm the white knight and his horse, I even get hoof shoes and a tail that moves slightly when I do.

Compared to the other Districts, we're pretty resplendent in our gleaming armour and I think it looks awesome.

The other Districts are either creepy, underdressed, badly dressed, looking kinda funny or just not into it while ours is so cool. The 'armour' is breathable and easy to move in while the tail and hoof shoes are just awesome in general.

Joey gives me an enormous hug as well after we leave the stylists. I'm happy for her, we both look good and she's really excited. It's good to be happy before something scary like the Games and she sort of spreads the happiness around when she's happy. It's nice…

I'm really excited to get to go on the chariots and see the Capitol and get to be cheered on and to meet with everyone else for the first time.

It's cool to meet so many other people from different Districts who I never would have met otherwise, no matter why I meet them. I'll remember them all forever, no matter what happens.

Joey and I are honestly grinning as we go out into the Capitol as opposed to the fake grins of some other tributes.

We look cool, the Capitol doesn't disappoint, full of bright colours and flashing lights, and I want to enjoy myself and make sure everyone else enjoys themselves too.

I hope I make lots of friends tomorrow and learn some new things. I like meeting people and I want to enjoy the rest of my time in the Capitol as much as possible.

**Taryn Byers: (District 6)**

I have no idea how my stylist drew a connection from District 6 to an obscure Norse goddess of healing.

Apparently "I got da ginga for da costume."

Meanwhile Wolfgang is dressed as a unicorn. I suppose I at least have something to be thankful for.

He growls and slams his front 'hoof' down before letting out a sarcastic 'neigh.' "Seriously, the only reason the Capitol is going to be laughing with me not at me is because I'll be pissing myself laughing at myself."

"So long as you don't get it on me," I reply as I yawn and lay against the chariot. For unknown reasons the District 6 train arrives at 5.00am in the morning while the other trains arrive between 9am and 9pm like normal people.

Apparently they need a District to tide over the two days so the early-risers have something to watch. Since the Districts 1-5 take the shortest time to arrive and the Reapings start at 9, they somehow decided picking the District that's 1 before halfway to arrive early was a great idea.

Then there's the fact that we had to get up at 3 while our escort ran around like a headless chicken with an egg on his head even if it still seemed like something was stuck up his ass. It's not like we had anything to pack.

I get the strangest feeling some of Wolfgang's sponsor gifts aren't going to reach the intended destination.

"I need sleep…" I groan as Wolfgang laughs.

"Hey, little miss sleepy, you slept in at least half an hour longer than me, I actually got up when the moron called," he replies.

"I wasn't going to get up at 3am, no way," I snap back as Wolfgang yawns even more widely than I did before I climb onto the carriage. Wolfgang's hooves scrabble around on the wooden surface and I yawn at him, "I'm far too sleepy to help out…"

He stops for a second then agrees, "Fine, you're much tireder. Help me up now?"

I consider watching him for a little longer, because watching a guy in a unicorn suit climb onto a horse-drawn carriage is pretty funny, then eventually decide to give him a hand because we're about to follow District 5 and I don't want to leave late; I want to get some sleep.

The effect of Wolfgang smiling along the chariot ride is pretty much grotesque since they decided a horse's face was unnecessary and to just cut a hole in the front but keep the 'healing horn' on his forehead.

Then there's the fact that no unicorn is proportioned like Wolfgang, lanky but toned. There's no way the legs could be that long on anything resembling a horse.

The audience grins and laughs and I can see Wolfgang's right about laughing with us because we're laughing at ourselves when he stands up and waves his hoof and we both start laughing as the crowd starts laughing as well.

Finally we reach the end of the circuit and I fall asleep as soon as I see one of the horse's hay bales.

**Sean Dorsin: (District 7)**

"Hey, Kaya, I can wear the suit if you want and you can wear my costume," I offer as Kaya scowls at the buttons of the lift as though it's their fault she's dressed like a tree.

"I doubt you'll fit," she grumbles after a few seconds. She hasn't talked to me since telling me she can't on the train. I suppose it's a start… I don't want her to be angry with me before the Games.

"We're about the same height, I'm sure I could squash in," I reply, anxious to make her happy. I don't mind being the one dressed in a tree suit; it's not _that_ bad.

"It's not that… I don't think any guy would fit…" she mumbles, turning away with embarrassment.

"Oh," I turn bright red as I get what she means.

"I don't have to stand on top of you if that helps, I can just look around from my side of the chariot," I offer.

"I'm not lifting it up, it's on wheels," she gestures towards the bottom where one foot pokes out from a wheel bordered chassis.

"That must be uncomfortable," I say, trying to keep Kaya distracted from hating her costume.

"You're telling _me_ that," she groans as she attempts to move in her costume to make herself more comfortable. I really want to help, but I can't and that's annoying. I like helping people and it always sucks when I can't. Like how Kaya hasn't let me talk to her when I know it would help… It's sad and yet I know why and it's the one thing I can't help with; the fact one of us has to die. I would lay down my life to save someone I care about's life but here it means nothing, just another cross on a scoreboard and that makes me sad…

"You need any help getting onto the chariot?" I offer as Kaya starts to slip into the steely silence she's attempted to maintain since the Reaping.

"They gave me a ramp," she points to a piece of wood lying across the ground near us.

I lean it against the chariot and she pushes herself up before scowling as she attempts to settle in with one leg crushed against her chest inside a plastic tree with wheels.

"You alright there?" I ask as she moves a bit to the side and I step onto the edge of the chariot to give her room.

"Get on," she growls.

"What?"

"Remember the stylist said you're dressed as a wood nymph, you're meant to be the benevolent master of the trees in your little wooden crown and cape and what not."

"No. There's nothing benevolent about standing on you; that would be mean," I reply adamantly as I draw the bow they've given me and fiddle with it while Kaya rolls her eyes at me.

"Stop being such a gentlemen, King Sean and get on. If I look like an evil tree trying to capture you it'll do me more good than you standing next to me while I wave my leafy branches," she snaps.

It's probably the longest exchange I've ever had with her and it's sad that it's about something as trivial a costume worn for the Capitol. I also think she's lying for my benefit but refusing her help would just make her unhappy.

It's a funny thing about me, I'm sort of shy with just a few people but in front of crowds, it's like someone's got a switch labelled 'sociable' and flicked it on.

I grin broadly at the crowd and wave as we roll out into the crowd, Kaya almost rolling a little too far out and the Capitol cheers us on. I feel like a hero with the cape and the crown and the cheering crowds and for a moment I almost forget why I'm here.

I know the cheering is probably not for the tree suit so when Kaya's branch-hand flicks out and grabs me, I pretend to be shocked and stage a mock battle with the tree suit.

It was fun and I think it made Kaya feel a little bit better about getting the… less aesthetically designed costume at least.

That's something at least.

**Piper Lyonz: (District 8)**

I can see Blaze's eyes wandering as we stand next to our chariot, particularly focused on the District 1 girl.

It seems the stylists are holding a mass 'slut-off' and clearly he doesn't mind. I was thinking about sucking up to him for some protection in the Games, but he's clearly too nice for anything I would want him to do.

He wouldn't go out looking to kill and that's what I plan to do. Sitting back and defending myself isn't a good enough option, too many risks someone will take me out and while Blaze owes me a favour, I doubt that'll count much to anyone more determined in the arena.

No, I'll be much happier alone in the arena with no one else to rely on.

These kids in their shiny costumes and fake grins aren't the ones I need to impress; they won't mean anything when I get a knife to them in the arena. It's the Capitol who I need to get on my side, their sponsor gifts and money would be the difference between life and… discomfort. Death isn't an option, not while Ves and Tison are in someone else's care and never in general.

That's why I have no qualms about wiping of the burn-proof cream on Blaze's back as I give him a hearty slap on the back for 'good luck.' Apparently he has enough smarts to be suspicious but not enough to realise what I've done.

'Accidentally' knocking against him on top of the chariot gets rid of his sword arm's cream and his off hand isn't a worry to me.

Dressing up in a dress that looks like fire isn't common in District 8; it's basic patterning, you only need three different colours, the orange, the blue and the purple centre to ripple and maybe some glitter. Apparently 'Blaze' the model can change that though. Who cares about the girl? They just want their pretty boy looking nice.

So while he's in a fancy tuxedo with several tricks literally up his sleeve, I'm in a pathetic orange dress that 'brings out my eyes.' They have to be a little more subtle than that if they want to fool me into thinking Blaze isn't the star since my eyes are blue. Definitely not pale orange.

I still throw on my best innocent smile for the crowd and act like just another helpless little girl caught in the lion's den while Blaze soaks up the attention like a sponge. He just attracts people effortlessly and I can leech of that at least a little bit until the Games when being nice is far from the most important thing we could do.

After a few seconds of deafening cheering for the apparent crowd favourite, flames shoot out from underneath Blaze's tuxedo, spraying out from pipes down his back and down his arms releasing a fragrance like a hearty, well-stocked fireplace.

I have to step forward so I don't get covered in flames as Blaze raises his arms to the audience and they somehow cheer even louder.

He starts to grimace as the burning hot metal pipes touch the skin no longer covered in burn cream but covers it up quickly, smiling again and waving while he starts to sweat.

1 injury down, 22 to go.

**Ahab Bronson: (District 9)**

Crowds.

One thing I'm not looking forward to is being scrutinised by the Capitol audience and screamed at while pretending to enjoy it. I'm not here to be a people person; I'm here for revenge and that's pretty much it.

Trying to fake enjoyment while Kristy keeps buzzing around trying to convince me to talk to her isn't making me any 'happier.' Can she not understand that I'm not at the Games because I want to make friends and actually get connected to people?

Since we're dressed like scarecrows with little holes in the straw for our heads to poke out, I can't be bothered even pretending to enjoy myself. I'm not going to bother faking fawning over the people who killed my mother and my sister; they're not worth it.

Kristy seems to have forgotten me for a moment as she eyes her costume with distaste, ripping out all the hay and throwing it so that the District 8 boy's costume sets it on fire and sends it flying over the crowd before being bounced back by an invisible barrier.

I want to be in the training room right now, getting ready to get revenge instead of sitting around, wasting perfectly good grain for a hat, and pretending to be happy we're going to kill people. Right now I could be taking up a spear and perfecting my technique for slicing the jugular vein or tearing through a swordsman's shoulder muscles.

I won't shy away from killing if it means I can get my revenge on the Capitol and the District whose children killed my sister but I won't relish killing the others.

Not that my anger even matters to the Capitol who are focusing on the District 8 tribute who's spurting flames. Maybe a dozen people flicker their eyes to us before sliding over to District 10 when District 8 leaves.

District 9, the forgotten District.

They probably don't even care their defective boat killed my mother and they definitely didn't care when their Games killed my sister.

If I had a weapon in my hands right now, not a single person in this square would be left alive.

**Scarlett Lavington: (District 10)**

Matt's a horse.

Well not literally.

That might be a little difficult to orchestrate.

More accurately he's a centaur.

They've somehow made a slightly-smaller-than-life-size, mechanical horse body that trots around when he walks.

First of all they decided brown wasn't the right colour, despite matching his hair perfectly. After a 'friendly visit' through a window to their 'friends' in District 5, they decided he should be a white centaur.

Next they decide that it doesn't match his hair so they bleach his hair with actual bleach.

Then he wasn't tanned enough to match the white so they spent ages tanning him while he was in the horse body until they decided that looking like a palomino horse was the right colour.

Since working together 'sped up the process' that left them with about half an hour to finish with my costume.

For unknown reasons, they decided the _female_ should be dressed up as a bull.

As you do.

Stick two horns onto my head, mess my hair about to make it 'sexy,' add some furry legwarmers, shorts and crop top and apparently that constitutes a bull costume in the Capitol.

I would agree with them if they put a 'shit' on the end.

I had to smack the bottle out of the stylist's hands to stop them adding some 'authentic fur.' Even my death stare didn't penetrate the layer of 'stupid' around their brains.

Matt just clops around quietly while we wait for our turn on the chariots while I want to leave and get out of the stupid costume as soon as possible. I mean if it were at least even remotely accurate I could live with it. But you know what a female bull is called? A COW.

As soon as I get to see the stylists again, they'll know just how bad a cow can bite.

For now, I just have to try and impress the audience so I can get home to Brynn and Onyx. Fake it. Come on Scarlett… think of Brynn and Onyx mucking around.

At least I have something to make me smile so long as I don't think of my baby brothers being at home without me.

Matt dithers getting onto the chariot, I know he doesn't like crowds but my new human genius puppy needs to give the Capitol no reason to try to kill him intentionally, no matter how much we hate them for making the Games.

"Matt, get on," I say, using my Mother voice. It never fails, especially on males.

He looks up and trots on with a nervous smile.

This appearance is the start of my Games; I just hope I live to see the end.

**Denver Radisson: (District 11)**

We're fruit golems.

You know golems?

The big rocky things that you put a scroll in their head and they move around and do your bidding?

Yeah, we're them but made out of _fruit_.

My entire body is covered in carved pieces of fruit to make a lumpy suit with a tiny hole for my eyes to look out. So for starters I'm suffocating but whoever thought that banana peels were a good idea for the feet really has no foresight.

I can't even hear Millie cracking up laughing through the layer of fruit covering her face.

When I double over laughing, the head folds over backwards so I can finally breathe and everyone turns to us laughing our heads off and we get a few snickers added to the mix.

I thought I was never gonna get rid of the smell of mango mouth mask, I grin as Millie finally just rips the head off entirely.

I still don't think I will but at least I like mango, she replies as District 1 sets off, grinning broadly to the cheering crowds. At least I think they're cheering. Since I can see about as well as someone in a blacked-out fishbowl, I don't have much to base my guess on.

Millie snaps the top of my head with the fruit mask before pelting seeds down through the hole in the top of my head before I eat some of the watermelon that was the fruit head.

Who'd have known chariot rides could be fun? (And tasty)

See if you can get some into my mouth! I call as I tip my head back. Maybe people are looking at me strangely, but only Districts 10 and 12 are left as far as I can tell from the number of horses I can smell. Their smell is a pretty clear indicator.

I wasn't expecting Millie to land the seed in my nose or all the other ones in my mouth so I manage to snort the seeds all over the top of the carriage while I feel Millie doubling over with laughter as she squeezes the partially-eaten fruit hat back on her head.

One benefit of the fruit costume is that we can crack up all the way to the end of the chariots without it making a bit of difference to our costumes.

It's good to have a friend like Millie to laugh with me through the start of the Games; it's too hard to do alone.

**Ivy Laurel: (District 12)**

Damn Wes and his loving family…

I tell him that I'm going to kill him to win and yet he makes me feel sorry for him with his nobility and him missing his family. The big, warm family who all came to wish him good luck when he went to the Games while I sat alone.

I know thinking about my family will only hold me back when I need to win the Hunger Games but how can I kill the guy when I know that his family will be back home, praying for his safe return?

I thought my determination was unshakable, but such a simple sentiment has weakened my belief somehow.

No.

I can't think like that.

I have to win.

I have to move up in the world, to be able to do something with my life. If I want to be sentimental about a family with three other children, I'll give them some of my winnings.

I can't be sentimental about anyone, no matter how nice they seem.

I can't let anything get in my way.

If I was meant to care about family, I should've been born to parents who would care when their daughter was Reaped instead of sitting in the precious little store that's been holding me back for my whole life.

I have to keep my focus on the goal of winning; I can make it on my own, I don't need to keep people happy anymore. When I win, they'll have to keep me happy and I can do what I want to do without people pushing me around and holding me down.

The costume gives me a good starting point for the angle I can play to get some sponsors.

We're coal demons, dressed in black with curls of coal dust and spikes of coal shooting off at all angles. If they had those in the coal mines, even I'd be… not scares. Maybe a little unnerved. A little terror still won't stop me from winning, no way.

You can't even see my face as we get led out into the Capitol and that's the way I'm going to keep it.

These Games, I'll be like a ghost.

There's no way to stop me and most of the time, you won't even see me.

**All the 'knight' mentions in reviews got to me, hence Apollo and Matt and Sean with a cape (and a crown).**

**I think I sort of gave away the game as to who has two votes but meh, that's only two while 11 different characters are only 1 vote behind that and the others are one vote behind that.**


	18. First Blood

**Sorry guys but I probably won't be updating for a while, I was planning on finishing up to the pre-Games chapter before now so I could leave you all on a massive cliff hanger.**

**Clearly I failed.**

**As such, I'll try to update but around Christmas we have family and friends and stuff so I won't be able to write even if I don't edit a chapter at all.**

**I will try though. I'll try and still give you a nice blood bath cliff hanger but I might fail because the actual Games get me much more motivated.**

**Also Lulu, I'm stealing your story's review's advice.**

**I made up the time to purify water by boiling; it's just a nice round number for Flo.**

**Sorry if it's crap or OOC, I tried to finish it before tomorrow so it's a bit rushed. If you have a problem I can rewrite it when I'm on a computer again.**

**Aglaeca Grenier: (District 1)**

"So how about we call you two Fell and Lix," I say, pointing at District 1 and District 4 respectively.

"I will _not_ fall. Call me Hail," Felix 1 one replies, quiet but deadly.

"Haas and Hail: A Tale of Two Felixes," Summer mutters under her breath.

"Then call me 'King,'" Felix 4 says with a condescending smirk.

"I'll call you Hass if I want to dickhead," Summer snaps back.

"You'll call me King, bitch," Felix 4 replies testily.

"Since he's Hail we can still call you Felix now can we start killing stuff?" Calvin asks. The two from District 2 are runts but no one's willing to tell the Creepy Twins what to do. Felix tried to get rid of the girl and the boy appeared out of nowhere with a knife. I swear he was next to Summer and empty handed a second before and the District 4 pair weren't exactly holding hands.

Felix still won't let it lie, "Winter and Hail, maybe you two should get together some time," Felix grins and I can tell Summer's about to deck him.

"My name's SUMMER!" she yells.

"Shut it Felix," I back Summer up.

"Huh, Summer and a glacier, that's new," Felix shoots back as I grab a knife off the nearest table.

I'm sorely tempted to throw it between his freaking ribs but Hail's hand whips out lightning fast to grip my wrist like it's in a vice, ripping the blade from my hand like I'm a child.

"Not worth it," he hisses.

I still can't resist replying, even if Hail has the knife, "It's Aglaeca. Uh-glay-ka!"

"Done yet?" Calvin asks, the knife 'Hail' just tossed away now flying in an arc out of his tiny hand and into Fleur's like some strange game of catch. Sleeping with those two around is going to be a waking nightmare no matter whether they seem to be on our side or not.

"Sure, let's split up and scout the competition. Report back to the lunch tables at 1pm. Do whatever the heck you want, go with who you want but remember where your allegiance lies by the time you come back, yeah?" Hail commands. Even though he added a question at the end, it's still clear he's in charge.

"Who died and made you… Prince?" Felix asks since after his recent rant, saying King would be a somewhat bad way to finish that sentence in case Hail follows through.

"Afraid Hail will beat your ass little 'Kingy?'" I ask, getting a grin from Summer. I don't care how much she smiles; I won't forget that District 4 killed Leorica.

Felix is about to reply when Hail picks him up and chucks him into a dummy about a metre away. "Anyone else got any problems?"

Calvin and Fleur grin evilly and vanish before Summer wanders off towards the edible berries station looking satisfied with Felix's put down and seeming more interested in a snack than training.

Hail finally breaks into a smile as they leave us standing next to the currently-empty axe station. District 7 have their eyes on other things and no one else wants to pick up an axe; it could be an advantage for us. "So how'd I do?" he asks as he grabs an axe and decapitates a dummy with an almost lazy test throw.

"Not bad but you have to watch out for Felix and Summer, both their bickering and treachery. Oh and Fleur and Calvin seem to have their own agenda and they're creepy. So basically watch out for everyone. Throwing Felix? Nice job," it's as I say this that I remember Fe- Hail last night telling me to think about his abs if all else failed.

I can feel my lips curve into a smile as my eyes flick downwards, almost totally out of my control.

He grabs another axe and pegs it, splitting a dummy's head in half and imbedding the blade up to the shaft into the dummy's neck. That would be one dead kiddy.

"It seems to be getting a little hot in here," Hail grins, ripping his training shirt off and tossing it over the dead dummy's head as though the axe's shaft was merely a coat hook, "I don't _really_ need that…"

Clearly he caught my glance as he stretches his muscles in an exaggerated yawn. "We'd better split, you take the weapons, I'll take survival and we'll meet back with lunch. You're probably right about trust issues in this alliance."

I watch him as he wanders off. The two dummies he hit have been automatically replaced and Felix is showing off with a sword to make up for being embarrassed in front of the Careers. For a moment I wonder if Hail isn't playing a more subtle game than he seems to be before shaking my head and moving off to the weapons stations.

I make a list of the people at the weapons stations mentally to report back to Hail later.

District 3 Male: At the knives, using two and clearly a beginner.

District 4 Male: Being an idiot over at the sword station.

District 5 Male: Following a bigger guy around the knife station.

District 6 Female: Trying to use a boy and arrow. Failing.

District 6 Male: Weighing up swords. Uncertain.

District 7 Male: Archery. Not bad.

District 8 Male: Heavy knives. Decent.

District 9 Male: Spears. Deadly.

District 10 Male: Archery. Not bad.

District 12 Male: Knives. Slow.

Not too many threats so far which is good but they might be covering their talents for later. Never hurts to be cautious.

It also doesn't hurt to get in my own practice. Since the sword's my best weapon, there's no point spending my time tackling newbies and wasting my time with petty injuries from dropping their swords or whatever they do. The knives are probably my second best and the best place to watch the most competition.

You can already see the alliance forming between some of the people there. District 8 has taken District 3 under his wing and District 5 seems determined to follow them.

Shame they're not very good, I'd hate to harm a pretty face like District 8's.

**Calvin Emil: (District 2)**

Fleur and I run off as soon as blonde-hair-strong-heart has stopped talking.

He wants us to look at all the hearts in the room and see which might bite back when we paint them red but then we'll be sad if we don't get what we were looking for and that's no fun. If we get surprised then that's a much better game to play.

We raced up the tallest climbing wall and sat on top next to the bell to ring if you reach the top. We didn't ring it because from here you can see the whole room full of blood and hearts.

Even the uniforms have red streaks on them but the room is all black… no fun at all.

We aren't allowed to cut the other tributes though, even the one who's sitting in the middle of the room in a ball, not even trying to stop us from getting to see all her blood running down her pale skin and through her hair. Her heart is barely even being used as it remains stationary while the others all pulse in the necks of their 'owners' as they run and throw around the room.

I can't sit still on top of the wall without being allowed to touch any of the blood all through the room. Even the weapons have dulled edges so they wouldn't be any fun even if we could cut things up.

Fleur is leaning over the edge of the wall with a grin on her face, staring at the people running around below.

"Hey, back up," I say as I lean back and relax on the top of the wall, "We can wait a while until the Games to pick our prey. It's no fun as a game unless we get to surprise them."

"Aw… but I want that one," she points at the big District 11 boy who's bulky but also tall and broad, the perfect candidate to take a heart from.

I almost can't stop myself from jumping off the wall and using the knife I took from Hail after he took it from Aglaeca to stab him and take his heart now. Then Father would be disappointed in me and he's the only one who understands how amazing the feeling of blood being pumped over your fingertips is…

"Let's play chopsticks," I say, trying not to think about all the blood the adults won't let me touch. But if they don't have any blood left…

"But we don't have any fingers to play it with…" Fleur replies as she checks the pockets of the pants and finds them empty, "I should've brought my own… the new one should still be in rigo… rige… riga… mortes… mortas… mortus…"

"Rigor mortis. You got some new ones… shame they don't let us bring more than one thing…" I sigh as I look at all the soft boned fingers curling and bending around the room, so soft and yet so close to being solid enough to play a proper game with them… if only we could touch them.

"How are we gonna play without them?" Fleur asks.

"We use our own fingers," I reply.

"But then we can't hold onto them to play…"

"You play like you're holding the other finger while yours is still on your hand."

"Well that's no fun… then you're just counting fingers, you don't get to collect any new pieces and you have to use the same ones you use for other things like cutting up people and that's icky," she replies, turning away with her arms folded, "I'm not playing an icky game like that."

"Fine… wanna go play with the knives?" I ask.

"Sure!" she grins.

No matter how blunt the knives are, they're all perfectly weighted, there's one to saw off limbs with the barbs along the blade. Another blade is just for fingers with a small hook and spikes perfect to shred through the muscles and the joints. Others have blades as fine as a hair to slice through skin like trailing a finger through blood except you get more blood instead of less.

One even has a red hilt and blade, already coloured and waiting for blood instead of boring silver blades which turn brown when they get blood on them.

When I get my hands on one in the arena…

Blood will fall like rain.

And I love jumping in puddles.

"**Flo" Wren: (District 3)**

The room is too loud.

I should be at home, finishing my toast 8.3 minutes ago.

I should be helping Mother chop up vegetables for dinner before she goes to work.

Instead the escort made me have breakfast 1.2 hours ago. I didn't have toast; instead I had bacon and eggs with 'pancakes ad maple syrup' even though today's toast day.

There's the sound of clashing metal on metal and people talking. They all want to kill me. They're just planning how to kill me, I know it. They're all conspiring against me. Just like my mother's brother who got brutally eaten by mutts in his Games. Then Mark's cousin allied with the Careers and had his toenails ripped out by his allies while he slept.

Everyone here's the same, they're all trained to kill and they're all going to come after me.

I hear footsteps coming towards me- it must be someone coming to kill me early. It's not my mother's footsteps which should have started 6.4 seconds ago when she walked upstairs to get dressed for work. They're too big and heavy and the floor feels all wrong.

"H-hi," a voice says nervously, "Are you okay down there?"

I move my arm slightly, not enough that he can stab me with a concealed weapon, and see the District 7 boy. He has an uneasy smile on his face but he can't fool me. He's here to kill me too; I can see the bow slung over his shoulders.

"Is there anything you need?" he tries again, his cheeks blushing slightly when I don't reply.

"You're just here to kill me aren't you? You're going to be all nice to me then come and kill me in my sleep in the arena," I snap, staring at him, trying to see through his 'nice guy' façade. I'm terrified that he's going to attack me now, defenceless like everyone else who I've heard of dying in the arena. I'm shaking and I just want to be at home in my chair like I should be after finishing with the vegetables.

"No-no I swear I'm just here to see if I can help you out, you seemed a little… off your game and I wanted to help," he stutters nervously as he takes a step back. He's good, but I'm not going to let anyone trick me into allying with them then rip my toenails out.

"Well go 'help' someone else who thinks they trust you," I reply as I curl back into a ball and hide from all of the people who want to kill me in my sleep.

Eventually he leaves and I can go back into the little black world where Mother is leaving for work. I'll eat lunch in 12.5 minutes and then after 13.8 minutes it's time for my walk and I can go around the room to all the stations where no one will try to trick me into trusting me then killing me.

For lunch I have a ham and lettuce sandwich with a 250mL glass of water just like I would at home at exactly 12:18.

Then I go for my walk and after washing my plate for 3.42 minutes in the drinking fountain I feel slightly better. The mud pit in the camouflage station feels like the boggy patch behind the pub back in District 3. The running track is covered in stones and grit, spraying dust like the back roads through most of the housing area of District 3.

Finally I find the station for building a shelter, something I used to do at home when I was small because it meant no one could see me and make me do something at the wrong time.

This time the shelter is made of leaves and branches instead of metal and scrap but the effect is the same.

I take a flint and stone from the fire-making station as well as equipment from water purification before settling back into my little shelter in a shielded corner.

The flint takes between 3 and 5 strikes to catch properly so if it catches light early I can keep striking for 5 strikes every time. It warms up the shelter a little bit and if you keep it at exactly the right height it's the same temperature as home.

Purifying the water takes an exact number of drops of iodine or boiling for a certain temperature which makes it easy to work with. 10 minutes boiling for every 100mL, it's like heating a bath at home.

It even has the slight metallic taste that District 3 water, which runs through the factories and old iron pipes, has.

I almost feel comfortable until I smell the smoke of the fire, which would be disastrous at home, when I tip the water on it and curl back into my ball and rock back and forth.

**Felix Haas: (District 4)**

I can see the scared glances from other tributes around the room, looking at me in terror as I decapitate some more dummies with one swing of the swords here in the Capitol. It feels amazing, all of them looking at me and knowing how much better I am than them.

Even with the blunt edges, they're so much better weighted than the swords in District 4, so much easier to kill with. I could kill a million guys with one of these swords without taking so much as a scratch.

Of course that wouldn't be just the sword. Most of it would just be my skill but the sword would help my hair catch the light as I killed some stupid, weak outer District hicks.

"Practice?" I hear the kid from District 9 grunt from behind me, tapping my shoulder with the spear in his hand. He looks confident, but he's just another opportunity to show all those other idiots that they should fear me. It's not like anyone can beat me from all of these 'family' kids who think that they're going to be home for mommy.

Since they're never going to beat me, I don't really care about the weaklings and their 'feelings.'

"Sure, kid, try me," I reply casually, grabbing my own spear and leaping into the hand-to-hand combat ring.

He follows and I grin as he tries to make himself look bigger and tenses as he twists the spear in his hands in preparation. Probably a nervous twitch, how pathetic. Then again he should be nervous, thinking he could compare to me in a fight.

No chance, 'buddy,' no chance.

"Your start," I offer loudly as everyone in the room turns towards us to watch. All the better for them to watch my impending victory.

He lunges forward strongly and I still manage to slap it away with a quick swipe. He's faster than the usual losers I see on the TV in the Hunger Games but still, there's no way he can match up to the great Felix Haa- King.

I lunge towards his shoulder as he rolls his spear again in his hands as my spear flicks sideways as he stabs out with the spear once mine flicks to the side so I have to bend sideways to dodge the point.

Lucky strike. He's not going to get lucky again.

I thrust the spear straight for his vitals as he recovers, even if I can't pierce his skin a good bruise should show off who's boss.

Once again he gets lucky and smacks the spear aside with his shoulder before stabbing with the spear, aiming for my heart.

I grab the spear with my left hand before shoving it away and lunging with my own as he struggled to pull it back again. He grabbed my spear as we grappled over the two spears, each aiming with one and gripping with the other.

"Pointless, SWORDS!" the District 9 boy calls as he lets go off both ends of the spear causing me to step backwards as the force on each end is released suddenly.

He's not going to embarrass me like this.

I grab a sword with one hand as I wipe the sweat from my face on the edge of my shirt as I face off from the District 9 boy. I can't believe he matched me at a stalemate.

Not that it was my fault, stupid spears are useless weapons anyway, much too useless for a close-quarters fight even with my skills.

I grip the sword and lunge as soon as it's firmly in my hand, but the District 9 boy already has his own and parries the strike before replying with his own.

It's clear that he's not used to fighting with a sword, but he's still too even for me to get a clear blow. He seems to predict each strike and block it, even though he has none of my skill, finesse or good looks.

Finally, after a minute of fruitless hacking, slashing and blocking, I pretend to mess up a block- as though I would ever do it accidentally- and let his sword slide away awkwardly as I kick him right between the legs.

He drops slightly, but when he comes back up he smashes his forehead directly into my nose and I can feel it break as blood pours down my face.

I draw back my arm, clenching the muscles tightly, to smash his head in with the sword now that he's on the ground when another set of arms grips me from behind and wrenches the sword from my grip.

Two of the Peacekeepers who apparently stand guard on the training have my arms in a lock behind my back and the same has happened to the District 9 kid, his eyes tearing up in pain. Wimp, clearly he doesn't have the balls to take it like a man.

"Fighting is not permitted during training," one of the Peacekeepers intones.

"What are you gonna do about it?" I sneer as the Peacekeepers pull my arms tighter against my back to try and stop my struggling so I can beat them up too. No one manhandles Felix Haas a.k.a The King.

"All tributes violating this rule are to be confined to their rooms until the Gamemaker's Session and to miss the remainder of the training sessions," the Peacekeeper replies and I swear he's laughing at me.

I try and wrench away again as I cough up a mouthful of blood that talking earned me.

Even if I can barely see from the swelling in my eyes, no tears come from a real man, I can still think; damn that District 9 boy, I bet he knew what he was doing and was just trying to get me kicked out of training.

When I get tossed into my room, I try to turn back and punch the Peacekeepers' lights out but the doors close instantly, locking me in.

I spend the next 3 days being served prisoner's rations, bread, cheese and water.

No fancy Capitol food, no weapons and no escape.

The windows are barred and I'm trapped inside, brooding over my hatred of the District 9 boy as a crack my knuckles and exercise like there's no tomorrow, when I come out I'm going to be even fitter than all those morons with their fancy training equipment.

Hail and Summer come up on the second day to 'make it clear to me that I'm still with the Careers no matter what.'

I don't care who I'm 'with,' the boy the Reaping video calls 'Ahab Bronson' is so dead that the force of my thoughts should have caused him to stop breathing already.

Die District 9.

You will die.

**The other two will hopefully be up soon but might not be…**


	19. The Alliances

**Sorry it took forever, I was on holidays for 3 weeks then I've just been lazy the last few days... I'm still on summer break so I get to sleep in and laze about all day. Oh, and then I had a school camp. One of those joyous bundles of fun that didn't involve camping and was basically a two day lecture away from home...  
><strong>

**If you're interested, I also started a new story about Peeta starting from his first day of school, age 5.**

**Blaze is now officially the sarcastic list guy.**

**This is mostly the second day (Joey's is the first) and the next is mostly the third but the POVs aren't necessarily in exact chronological order.  
><strong>

"**Joey" Cox: (District 5)**

The training centre's large and packed with people. Not just the tributes and the trainers but also the humanoid dummies, leering down from all angles.

I managed to pull off the outer plates with a solid knife to find a plastic interior that looked like one of Leana's robots. In fact, the entire training centre looks like the glistening empires that Leana likes to live in. Everything is chromed and the surfaces resemble the glistening walls of the train carriages except for the colour, the walls seem black but glisten like polished silver.

Even the tributes themselves gleam with an inner light that I'm itching to draw from the moment I enter the room.

As I climb to the top of the rock wall, it seems like the shadows thin slightly... but I don't care. It adds to the dark air of the training centre.

I pull out my sketch book the second I reach the top of the tower. I can see everyone in the room and all the gleaming weapons at once, the only problem is knowing where to start...

First I see the District 9 bow with his eyes darkened by his frown, silently throwing spears shaped like arrows, arcing through the air to pierce the heart of the target with a resounding _thud...  
><em>

I sketch his outline, muscles rippling with force as the spear is gripped in his hand, drawn back and ready to throw...

Next are the details, the bulge of his knuckles as he tightens his grip... the shadows emphasised on his face... the clench of his jaw and his back muscles stiffening in preparation for the throw.

Finally I add a background of shadows... it's like a... like a dark cloud over him...

When I finish the last pencil stroke, I move onto the District 11 pair, hanging like monkeys from the climbing apparatus sprawled around the climbing tower and the middle of the room. I sketch the two of them right as the girl leaps up from the bars to catch a piece of fruit the boy has thrown... when she lands in the bars and swings back down I want to draw another picture... but there's the handsome District 8 boy...

He already has two other kids with him, the boy from District... 3 I think and... Apollo...

This morning we went down to the training room together... I got him to wear a white and gold shirt like his outfit last night...

He was going to stay with me for the training. He said he didn't mind but I told him to go off and do what he wanted to do, I'd still be on Level 5 at the end of the day.

I don't know how I feel about Apollo being with an alliance so I ignore it and look for something gold. I like gold. It's pretty but I don't see it too often in District 5, we can't afford it.

Looking for gold finds 5 guys' hair and a station covered in paint.

As in literally, covered in paint.

It's annoying that only Karla has wings otherwise I would leap off the tower right now and have a paint bath. I've never seen so many colours in my life.

Instead I have to scramble down the climbing wall, earning a clap from the 6th golden haired guy in the room the climbing trainer, and sprint across to the station labelled 'camouflage.'

"So you're interested in studying some camouflage?" the instructor says as he attempts to hide a grin.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!" I reply, practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. All these paints... there's gold of at least 5 different shades... that one looks like distilled sunshine...

"Wait just a second," the instructor says, sticking out a hand to stop me from running straight into the paints and just basking in the glory of the colours... I didn't know it was possible to make blue like a dusky sky... the maroon of the tiles made in District 5... distilled sunshine gold... The instructor's voice snaps me out of my colour daydreams, "All of these paints and dyes are made from organic materials so some of them are going to be a little more pungent or a little weaker and some of them will turn you purple for a week."

"Aaaaaaaand?" I ask as a pot of lilac purple catches my eye.

"Um... don't eat the paint?" he offers as I stare at him, trying to work out exactly what colour his eyes are. I swear they change ever few seconds... blue... brown... green... was that yellow?

I'm about to test the sunshine paint on my skin when I realise what he said and ask, "Organic materials? You mean trees and stuff?"

"Y-yeah," he replies as he tries to work out what I'm talking about, "You make it out of tree bark, flowers, fruit and stuff otherwise you couldn't...make it in the... arena?" he offers. I swear his eyes were just red...

I've gone back to the blues before I realise what it means, "You mean I could _make _paint at home? Yay!"

"Y-yeah," he stutters again. His eyes were seriously just black, but over there is... purple? "I need to... um give this... red to... Steve. The edible berries guy," he finally manages before running off. Come on, orange eyes? but last time they were blackpurpleyellow...green... hey is that another shade of gold paint?

Testing on my arm, I realise that the dyes stain the skin. Combining sunshine and forest green looks like sunlight falling on a bed of leaves.

I'm halfway to being a desert when I realise someone else is there.

Gold hair #1, the District 1 boy.

"Hi," he says once he realises he has my attention, "My name's Fe-Hail," he extends his hand for me to shake.

"Fe-Hail? Like Fail? That's a bit odd..." I think he'd look good in Apollo's horse-knight armour. And in the sunshine, his hair's like the sunshine paint but... thicker... Especially when he laughs... he laughs posh...

"Nah, my name's Felix but my nickname's Hail," he says as he starts spreading brown paint over his arm.

"What's a Career doing in the camouflage section?" I ask as I stick my fingers in all of the red tinted paints to find the stickiest one... rolling in sand should finish off the colour if the paint doesn't stick too fast... maybe some gold, there's sunlight in deserts, right?

"Eh, the fighting gets dull after a while and we don't get along so well," he replies as he fiddles uncertainly with some green paint.

I vaguely remember seeing one of the Careers thrown before... maybe they did split up... That doesn't happen too often that I've seen before... "So you came over to the survival stations?"

"Yeah, it's not often we try these back in District 1, that's for sure," he grins as he starts painting his cheek a mix of the green and brown he'd been using... it just looks like paint though... it needs some more details like a sketch in my book, "What's the bet I can paint myself into that mud patch?" he asks, pointing at a puddle that's clearly for painting yourself in mud... if only I didn't already have a desert on me...

While Hail attempts to roll himself into the mud, I finish painting myself into the desert. When I'm done I start thinking about all the things I could paint... the griffin in golden sunshine... the most accurate flower I can imagine splashed out with its own colour on paper...

"I'm done!" Hail calls as I open my eyes, disoriented until I remember... the Hunger Games... probably shouldn't forget that, "Um... Joey?" he asks uncertainly as I realise he can't see me. That's cool... imagine winning the Hunger Games with paint...

I look over to where Hail's hiding in the muddy underbrush. I can just make him out, the dyes he's used are a little too... two dimensional. There's just one layer of colour that allows you to see the missing patches where he lies...

I reach out and grab his ankle causing him to jump up and search for a weapon. It's funny seeing the big Career leaping into the air when I barely touched his ankle.

He whirls around looking for me as he finally rubs his hand through his hair and laughs, "I think you win the camouflage Joey, going to tell me where you are now?" he asks.

The buzzer sounds for lunch and as he turns to look for the source of the noise, I leap up and jump on him, pretending to strangle him.

He grins as he drops me easily onto the ground before we both head for lunch.

When the Careers call him for lunch I think I see a flicker of... sadness maybe... as he says goodbye and sits at the Career table, his back towards me.

Was I just being... played?

**Wolfgang Ardenne: (District 6)**

Taryn, being her apparently usual surly self, has spent most of training actually training. Meanwhile in the awesome corner, I've discovered that apparently volunteering, acting happy and the Hunger Games don't exactly set you up for an alliance. Except maybe the Careers. Who I'm going to file under 'No freaking way in hell.'

By lunch of the second day neither of us has found an alliance as we sit together at a table on the edge of the canteen area.

"Still no one?" Taryn asks.

"Nope, probably all scared off by my amazing height and toughness," I grin, flexing my arm muscles and my eyebrows.

I can tell Taryn's about to put in a cutting remark when the District 5 girl snorts slightly with laughter into her violet soup bowl. I think it's made of pumpkin and cinnamon.

"You find me funny, mein Freund?" I ask her.

"Yeah, you remind me of my imaginary friend, Dave," she replies as though this is totally normal. I'm about to raise my eyebrow when I stop myself. Sure, crazy imaginary friends are strange but not totally psycho and someone who actually finds my jokes funny is the closest I've gotten to an alliance all day.

"He must be pretty cool if he's like me," I grin back at her as she finally smiles in return. I guess the imaginary friends don't go down so well with most people.

She stands up and I follow her while Taryn just glares.

"You're freaky tall," she says as she puts her tray on the cleaning machine they have here in the Training Centre.

"Yeah, I mean why bother climbing a tree? I'll just stand there and paint myself green," I reply, watching her give another radiant smile. It makes me want to grin like a moron before I go to the _Hunger__ Games_. Ah, what the hell, they think I'm a moron anyway.

People who laugh at my jokes, oh how I wish there were more of them.

Joey talks about her family as we try to spear fish in a training pond.

"I'd do anything to get back to my family and for them to love me," Joey says sadly, "That's why I volunteered for my sister Freya. I have to get back to her."

"Yeah, because it's not like I have a family too or anything," I mutter.

"Oh… I'm sorry," Joey replies apologetically.

It's impossible to stay angry at Joey. It's like kicking a puppy. Repeatedly. In the face. With a jack hammer. There's the puppy eyes, the tiny smile then the grin as I shoot back an apologetic smile.

"Sorry... guess I'm just a little touchy about being in the Games," I try to think of a joke to make it all rainbows and sunshine... and fail.

Joey's eyes glaze over for a moment before she says, "So what are you best at?"

Random change of topic much... eh who cares, "Well clearly my deep, rich voice and handsome visage are my best features," she laughs before I continue, "Really, my Dad trained me with a sword. Well a piece of pipe... it's still a big metal thing you hit people with."

"My brother showed me how to use a knife a few times but... it never really interested me... I'm good at camoufla...ge..." she seems to drift off again until I snap my fingers.

"Do you want me to show you how to use a sword?" I offer as she looks at me again.

"Yes please," she replies. It's funny hearing someone using their pleases and thank yous in training for the Games especially sine *cough* don't use them anyway *cough*.

"Come on then," I grin as I hold out my hand to pull her up. I feel like a gentleman. I don't do that too often. Swearing, bad jokes and overuse of sarcasm generally tend to screw with your chances in the 'gentleman' department.

Walking over to the sword training is a bit daunting considering the District 1 and 4 girls are decapitating things all over the place. The big guy from District 12 is over in his own corner while District 8 and the little ones take a breather, leaving us with one dummy to work with.

I let Joey use it first to see if she has any idea what she's doing with a sword.

She's not too bad but that's because it's pretty hard to fail at smacking an inanimate object with a big, metal stick.

"Hey, hey, let me try something," I say, waiting until she stops hacking enough that my eye will remain safely in its socket for the remainder of the training session.

Trying to readjust her grip from the front is awkward because I can't compare it to how I'd hold it.

That's how I ended up with my arms wrapped around Joey from behind but from the snickering coming from the guys in the corner, somehow I think it looks like something else.

Luckily Joey's fazed out looking at me changing her sword grip as I wink at the guys in the corner.

I think I might have a little more than an ally on my hands for the cameras.

**Kaya Lambert: (District 7)**

I have an ally now at least, but that doesn't stop my eyes from flickering towards Sean.

I know that he has his own alliance, I can see him with the District 10 pair learning how to use a sword. He's about as good with it as he is with an axe and it brings back memories of a younger Sean back home, cutting down trees like the tree was going to have its feelings hurt by him cutting it down.

I know I tried to let him go on the train and maybe I would have succeeded if it weren't for the day.

Yieldmas is District 7's one holiday of the year.

After the main yield is finished, when it's turning to autumn and many of the trees are losing their leaves, we have a single day off.

All of the Districts concerned with producing something organic have a Yieldmas; District 4, 7, 9, 10 and 11 all have their day off at some time during the year. Districts 1 and 2 celebrate Terraunaka, the minerals from the Earth and Districts 3, 5, 6 and 8 have a Construction Day. For some reason these celebrations fall on different days. Probably to stop a rebellion by Districts consorting in their free time.

Apparently the celebrations were once religious ceremonies, thanking the Gods for all they've done. Really, I don't know what there is to thank them for.

Now they're just our one real break. District 12 are the unlucky ones, the Capitol decided the Victory Tour was too boring in 12 so they scheduled the Harvest Festival to add some life to it.

Knowing that I'm not going to celebrate it at home is bad, but knowing someone else I could share it with is only a few metres away makes it worse.

"Why the long face?" Kristy asks, appearing beside me.

"Weren't you getting a drink?" I reply, caught off guard by her sudden appearance. It's a slightly worrying habit in an ally. Still, I doubt Kristy would try killing her allies. She's a little too cheery to be going around backstabbing her friends. Especially since she looks at the bows and arrows like they're made of poison and she would've only used those for animals.

"I finished doing that, so now I'm back. Worried about your District partner still?" Apparently she's also good at sneaking up on people's emotion.

"Today's Yieldmas. It feels weird not celebrating it," I reply as I toss some more berries into the 'poisonous' bucket.

"Ours is the week before Reaping Day. When you get back up to your rooms, have a nice feast with Sean. You can order anything you want to make it more like home," she suggests while eating several of the berries out of the poisonous bucket.

"But I told him we couldn't be allies in the arena," I reply as Kristy keeps eating out of the poisonous bucket. Way to go self esteem.

"And you won't be. He has allies and you've got the best ally in the arena. I'm sure he doesn't want to be alone on Yieldmas either," she says. It took a while for us to warm up to each other but surprisingly having to try and escape a creepy knot-tying instructor together drew us closer until we ended up with Kristy chatting her head off and me moping over an arbitrary holiday.

"Is it just me or are you somehow happier than you were before?" I ask as Kristy finally moves onto the edible bucket only to toss some berries across into the poisonous section.

"District partner," she replies as she grins.

"The one who's been confined to your floor for trying to kill his opponent early?" I ask as I finally leave the berries station which clearly isn't my forte.

"Yup. Weeeeeell I spent all of the train ride trying to get him to say something but he never did. When he got dragged out of the training he used a lot of colourful language. Talked quite a bit really," she says as we approach the knives station.

Kristy's bubbly talkativeness almost makes me forget about Sean and Yieldmas.

Wait.

Shit.

**Blaze Valentine: (District 8)**

I started out the training planning on just flirting around, maybe getting a few allies and then spending the rest of training chilling out and practicing a few sword tricks and maybe fiddling around with some of the survival stations in case I don't get my hands on a sword because I'm not too fussed on diving head first into a brutal blood bath. Least of all with Dria watching.

If I have to die I'd at least want Dria to get to see me one last time, not as another bloody mess mixed in with the corpses at the bloodbath.

Still, the last thing I expected was ending up as Daddy Day Care.

Sure I love kids and all but look how well me looking after my little brother turned out all those years back.

Having a twelve and fourteen year old on my hands, trusting me to look after them in the Games, is seriously unnerving.

Lucas reminds me a little bit of myself when I was younger. He's more than a little bit cocky and he's a bit of a handful but no way am I turning away a twelve year old before the arena. Maybe looking after him could make up for losing my little bro all those years ago.

Apollo's fourteen but he acts like a puppy dog; he follows me everywhere and will fetch anything at will. Was I that annoying when I was 14? I would drop him off with his District partner but I can't see her _anywhere_. Not even the camouflage. There's someone over there but they're way too tall to be Apollo's pretty diminutive partner.

So now I have to look after them. Yay.

At least they're past the burping and feeding age or I'd be screwed. Note to self: do NOT get any buns in the oven.

Then again 23 people are saying that I won't exactly have a choice in the matter.

I say to screw the 23 people-

-Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand then I remember the kids.

I've got myself into a tiny bit of a mess here...

The worst part is that in another situation I could see Dria laughing at me. In my mind's eye I can see us in the snow, me weighed down by Lucas and Apollo jumping on top of me while I laughed with her, like I would have done in District 8.

It just reminds me how _not_ in District 8 I am right now.

I'd be closer to flying to the moon.

On a pig.

I end up taking them around to the survival stations for the basic fire-starting and berry eating so that three of us can live without having to resort to going to the bloodbath or cannibalism.

Especially not the second part; I've definitely got the most meat in this alliance.

I pick at a few berries and organise them but once it becomes clear that Apollo and Lucas are way better than me at it, I just end up looking around the room to see where people have ended up.

Careers: Both from 1, Both from 2, the girl from 4 and presumably the guy from 4 when he gets out of solitary confinement.

Alliance 1: The guy from 6 and the girl from 5... now I find her.

Alliance 2: The pair from 10 and the boy from 7.

Alliance 3: The pair from 11.

Alliance 4: The girls from Districts 7 and 9.

Alliance 5: That would be us.

Loners: Girl from 3 (unsurprised), girl from 6 (wouldn't know. She's terrible to flirt with, that's for sure), Piper (that doesn't exactly leave me stunned) and both from 12. (I had to guess about the girl though because wherever she is I have no idea)

The guy from District 12 is alone at the sword fighting station and I can see him looking towards the girl from District 6.

Apparently it's not just my mojo failing that's the problem with the District 6 girl as he shuffles away, possibly protecting the family jewels from attack. Might be a good ally, he's big enough to handle himself and maybe he wants to adopt a District 5 puppy.

"Come on guys," I say, turning around to face Apollo and Lucas.

"Where are we going?" asks Apollo as he looks up at me. Aside from annoying, was I that short when I was 14? Lucas is almost as tall as him.

"Sword fighting, give you two a chance to learn to fight," I say to the delight of Lucas and the anxiety of Apollo.

Still doesn't mean I'm not almost getting a broken heel bone the whole way to the sword fighting station.

I use the training-instructor-child-minding-service as I walk up to the District 12 guy, following his line of sight to see Piper fiddling with some knives at the next station over, "Don't even try dude, she's a 'lone wolf.'"

"Really? Weird, you'd have thought she'd want one of us buff guy protecting her," he replies as he turns to face me, "Allies?"

"You read my mind," I reply. Maybe I should be worried that it takes all of two sentences to get a new ally, but the Games make you pretty desperate for other people, a lesson I've already learned with only one flying pig analogy.

"Twin telepathy, it can work on others if you practice," he replies as he shakes my hand somewhat formally.

"Neat trick, got any others?" I ask. I don't think he's playing us with a twin back home, both because he would never live it down and that it means I was right about desperation.

"Sewing?" he suggests as I laugh.

"Real manly talent you've got there," I reply as he grins a little.

"Just about as manly as the name Wesley."

"Blaze," I say as I grin.

Dria should be proud; 4 guys, no girls.

Then again, now she might be worried in the other direction...

**If you're wondering why Joey creeped out the trainer, imagine someone staring directly at your eye for several minutes while randomly whirling around and asking about things you said a short while ago.**

**Interviews: Do you want them to be a whole individual interview for each person or just the most important parts and have Plutarch the baby Gamemaker's POV?**

**Also, I'm making a video for this which I'll link to in a chapter soon so watch out for it. I'll try and update again this afternoon and might even get the Gamemaker's Sessions in since I wrote several of them when planning the story to choose what kind of skill I wanted the characters to have.  
><strong>


	20. Coconuts

**I'm sorry about the ending.**

**Me and Ashlee were singing it and they were talking and... you'll see.  
><strong>

**Kristy Greene: (District 9)**

I thought the Hunger Games training would be miserable and depressing but it's not all that bad.

It's fun, kind of like a sleep over.

There's the family drama, the escort yelling at our mentors, Ahab smashing his fists against the wall occasionally while I stuff myself with the food that was probably meant for both of us and me and Kaya spending the day playing around with different weapons and stations in the training centre.

If the Peacekeepers weren't so heavily armed and well hidden it would seem exactly like home.

All I'm missing is some plate glass and somewhere good to launch it from and it'd be just like old times.

It's a shame Kaya isn't as interested in Peacekeeper baiting... With the two of us we could do some pretty serious damage. Maybe even get several in one go but unfortunately we can't.

We only have 6 more hours of training then the next thing on our 'ah-maaaaaaaaaazing schedules' is the 6 hours of Gamemaker's sessions.

"So should we practise for the Gamemaker's sessions or just keep picking stuff up?" I ask as Kaya yawns.

"Picking stuff up unless you need practice. I just need to get my hands on an axe and swing like I've always done," she replies as we head towards the swords; the one station we haven't tried yet since it's been crawling with guys since the first day. Now that they've flexed their muscles and their egos for long enough they've started to spread as the reality that this is the last training day hits them.

I don't mind, we might as well get on with it and I'm ready for anything life throws at me.

Except maaaaaaaaaaybe knives.

Just because they're a little bit hard to catch with the blades and all.

Nick and I tried it; bad idea.

We spend the first 2 hours hacking around with swords for a bit until Kaya discovers the theory is similar to an axe and me just getting bored hefting a big sword around and boring time listening to a droning guy at the shelter station who appears intent on attempting to bore us to tears. Either that or sleep. At least the second option would shut him up.

The third option does too; I rip out the string that forms the waistband of our training pants and wind it around my fingers. Kaya passes a small stone that's been kicked away from the nearby fishing stream and I position it in between my fingers to make a mini slingshot. Nick taught me how to do it when I was 9 and I took my first potshots at Peacekeepers when they confiscated the conventional ones from the kid in the District after some morons took out the windows of the big shops in the main square.

Nick would be proud of the shot that floors the instructor but even his fall is boring and I push him to at least make him drop a little faster before we sprint off towards the camouflage station which is sheltered by a few trees that are placed for practice purposes.

"Thanks for that, but maybe a few less knocked out Capitol people next time, yeah?" Kaya pants as she leaps into the tree, pulling herself up through the branches leaving me leaning against the bottom until she pulls me up to join her.

"Oh come on, he wouldn't have shut up if I'd done anything less," I reply, wiping my hair out of my face as I look nervously at the ground. Not being a climber doesn't exactly equate to having an amazing head for heights. I'm not jumping down or anything in front of my ally but first available opportunity this little piggy is getting back onto solid land.

"True but I don't want to die without a chance in the arena," she replies almost carelessly but we're both quiet. It seems a little too real no matter how hopeful of my chances.

"I have an idea for the rest of training," I say suddenly. For some reason staring at the District 1 boy effortlessly flicking his swords around gave me the inspiration.

"Let's hear it then, normal training didn't exactly turn out so well," Kaya replies as she leans back against a thin branch, making my head spin at the thought of being that high off the ground on such a thin support.

"Well there's no rule saying we can't prepare for the Gamemaker's sessions," I start and I can see Kaya joining the pieces in her head, "So we should make sure everything we need is in the right place so we can get more done."

"I just need an axe and some targets, what can I prepare for that?" Kaya asks, chewing on a branch and making the tree sway.

"You could use these trees, chopping them down in 2 seconds flat would be pretty impressive," I suggest.

"But if I don't need anything to be moved before I start, that means you need something set up. What are you doing if it's going to take 5 hours to get everything in position?" she asks exasperatedly.

"My lips are sealed," I grin as Kaya tries to read my expression.

"I'm going to be really glad I was in here before you aren't I?" she asks.

"Yep."

"**Matt" Hanson: (District 10)**

The three of us make a good team strategically.

Sean and I are both good archers and although Sean isn't the best with an axe, he's still better than Scarlett or myself while Scarlett's handy with a sword since she used to collect the hay back home with a sickle and was the best of us with throwing knives.

This means that I'm left with only problems of the heart to trouble me.

My mind tells me that my worries are ridiculous, that I should be focused on the Games ahead of me but my heart's still back home in District 10.

I don't know if I'd be more troubled thinking that no one likes me or now, after Scarlett told me that everyone in the District looks up to me.

How am I meant to die in the arena with the knowledge that back home, I don't just have a brother who hates me?

Sean comes over and offers me an apple that he's been carrying around. If I have moral difficulties with the Games, I still can't compare to Sean Dorsin. He seems inexplicably drawn to helping everyone.

If he was in the arena, I wouldn't put it past him running up to a dying Career and trying to patch them up while there's a sword in their hand.

He tried to help the slightly worrying girl from District 3 when she was huddled in the middle of the room and I can see that he still feels terrible for not being able to help her despite the fact she told him not to. He watches his District partner like a mother trying to protect her brood and he joined us by almost literally leaping to help Scarlett at the archery station when I was trying to use some swords. I know from experience that keeping your talents hidden is one of the best strategies in the arena.

Still, I feel sorry for Sean.

The kid volunteered for a disabled kid who, to be honest, the District was probably happy to be rid of. The Capitol has made us so impersonal, so stoic that the one person who stands outside that is going to end up either as a monster... or dead.

And I think that he's leaning towards the second option.

It makes my worry seem so inconsequential; whether people like me enough for me to deserve winning, when compared with a kid who volunteered for someone nobody wanted to save knowing full well that the best case scenario was his death.

"Come on guys, we need to work out a plan," Scarlett finally decides after we've spent 2 hours at the edible berries station. I think I had most of them in my head after the first hour but Scarlett seemed desperate to continue there so Sean and I both waited for her to finish and for us to move on.

"A plan wouldn't be a good idea here, too many people listening," I reply as I look around the room. The tributes have all spread out to different stations as the pressure builds before the Gamemaker's Sessions so while a plan could save our lives in the arena, having it overheard could kill us.

"That's why we're not going to discuss it here. Where would no sane person go?" she asks.

"Shelter," Sean says, immediately pointing towards the station where the District 3 girl is screaming from.

As much as I would like to let Sean run along and try and help the District 3 girl again, I know it's only going to end badly for him and my protective side is telling me not to let him go. I try and think about training so far, the only place likely to be deserted when everyone's training like they're cramming for finals which, in a way, they are. When I see the District 9 girl steal something from behind the shelter instructor's back I know where the best place will be, "Knot-tying."

"What? But knot tying could be useful in the arena, why would no one go there?" Scarlett asks as she looks over at the deserted station, "Just because it's empty now doesn't mean someone can't sneak up on us while we're talking."

"Where do you want to go?" I ask before she shrugs.

"You're the brains, I'm the leader; we just do what the brains say only louder," she replies.

"Two girls ran away from knot tying first day. It isn't empty because of the skill, but the instructor," I say as I point at the old man leering from the station out at the tributes.

"So you want me to go over to a creeper station for some peace and quiet?" she asks, leaving her feet firmly planted where we've been standing. When she puts it that way it does sound pretty bad.

I look over at the instructor again when I realise something, "He must be coming back because he's run out of money, he's standing at the front of the station because otherwise he can't see the tributes and he must be a little deaf because he doesn't react to the District 1 girl's steady thumping with the throwing knives at the next station over. I explain this to Scarlett and she looks uncertainly at him before sending me over to the station to prove my point, only to have Sean dash past and take my place.

At least he's with us so he's not just alone in the arena, he doesn't deserve the fate that that entails.

Then again, life's rarely about getting what you deserve.

**Millie Sun Mallard: (District 11)**

It's something strange that suddenly reminds me of home. It seems inconsequential but it makes me sad for a moment.

An avox carrying a tray of fruit towards the enormous dishes we get food for lunch from is a little overweight and buzzcut hair.

That's where the similarities to Greg end but it's enough to remind me that I haven't thought about Greg and Sash since the start of training.

After that, me and Denver have been doing everything together until the Games start, making the most of all the food and the great climbing.

The food is definitely a big bonus, I doubt I've seen so much food before in my entire life, let alone in one meal for just 24 people.

"You alright?" Denver asks as he swallows a bread roll whole after smearing it in some type of fish paste.

"Just thinking about home," I reply as I move my hand back on its arc towards my mouth and eat another one of the miniature fruit-in-fruit baskets that we were served. It's weird looking at unrecognisable food you're eating and wondering if you picked it.

"Don't let it bother you," he replies casually as he stuffs himself with some more rolls, "Just remember that no matter what happens, you'll be home in a few weeks. No matter what happens, you'll be back there sooner than you can blink. So that's why you have to make the most of it, no way you'd find this chow in District 11," he grins as he wolfs down another roll. I remember thinking he looked like a bear at the Reapings and he eats like one too.

He makes a good point, being morbid is no fun and no matter what happens, I'll get back to my family and friends.

"So what do you want to do other than making sure you'll vomit all over the next station?" I ask as he drains a bowl of soup a bit too loudly.

"I'm a growing boy," he grins, using the old mother's reasoning for all the food their kids eat.

"I can tell," I reply as we look over at the other stations.

"How about swords or something?" he asks as he shreds meat off the bone of what was once probably a pig but its rather hard to tell because someone's dyed it blue. It reminds me of the blueberries back home but now it's comforting, thinking about the home I'll be going back to soon.

"But we'll stay up in the trees, we won't have to worry about fighting on the ground," I reply as I remember practicing with the throwing knives and the bow and arrows yesterday. I could use them to do whatever I want to while being cosy up in the trees.

"Yeah but if we get caught on the ground, finding water or something, we don't want to be throwing knives around and you were tons better than me at even that. How about a compromise? Take some spear lessons, eat some fish and then settle down for the Gamemaker's sessions. That way we can use them from the trees as well and we're all happy, yeah?" he asks and I nod, trying to make it easier for him, it's worth a shot at least and I could draw a map of the climbing frame from memory.

Denver takes pretty well to the spear so once we've spent two hours throwing and lunging with spears we only have another half hour before he finally shakes his head, spraying sweat everywhere, and grins at me as I try to wipe the stuff off my face.

"Wanna try fishing with these things?" he asks as he tosses the spear up and catches it again.

"Since when do either of us have the first clue about fishing?" I ask as we head towards the artificial stream.

Either he doesn't notice me saying it or he pretends he doesn't because he keeps running straight for the stream and starts poking around with the spear as I try to catch up with him.

The fish keep dodging the spear thrusts until finally he dunks his head into the stream and goes head over heels to end up splashing half the stream over me and the floor.

When his head finally pops up, he has a salmon clenched between his teeth and reminds me so much of a bear that laughing hurts.

It's a shame the best days of my life came now but hey, at least they came.

"**Wes" Faulkner: (District 12)**

I was so happy to be in an alliance yesterday that I didn't really care who it was with.

Well I cared that it wasn't a psychopath or Ivy but those two circles touch on several occasions.

What I didn't expect was finding someone like Blaze as an ally. He could be my brother except for the fact that he's nothing like Wade, the boring one of our siblings. He's so straight-laced that he could take up a career as a shoe and no one would question it.

While Apollo and Lucas run around the stations, me and Blaze sit back near the stream and watch them like my parents used to do when me and Waverly were little kids. If we decided to go cannoning around now I doubt any number of watchful glances would catch us.

"Isn't that a lovely sight?" asks Blaze, pointing towards a middle-aged instructor at the spear station who thinks she's a size 8.

She ain't.

"Oh man, that's gross. Seriously, not cool," I reply as I shield my eyes until she stops bending over, "Haven't got any eye bleach on you do you? Some brain bleach would work pretty well too."

"Unfortunately they wouldn't let me bring it into the Capitol. Looking at that," he points at the District 1 girl, "Might cure you though."

When she realises we're looking at her wiping the sweat off her face with the bottom of her shirt she flicks us off but my eyes have been thoroughly cured.

I didn't even realise the sword fighting instructor had come up behind us until he spoke, "Don't get attached," in a monotone.

"What?" Blaze ad I asked at the same time. Getting attached was pretty much the last thing on our minds.

"There's such a thing as getting too attached to something you don't realise you're focused on," he continues. You could barely tell he was Capitol if it weren't for the fact that he looks exactly the same age as he did when he first started training the year I turned 3.

"Come on, loosen up Tyler," Blaze replies as Tyler frowns, "We're not getting attached, it's possible to enjoy people without getting attached to them," Tyler opens his mouth but Blaze cuts him off, "Seriously, try it. Go get whatever gets you pissed on this colourful little rock of yours and shift it over here."

Tyler looks doubtful but returns with a bottle of bright green spirits.

"Right, drain it," Blaze commands.

"This stuff would kill you to drain it," Tyler replies as he eyes it doubtfully.

"Half?" I offer.

"I'd be out within 10 minutes," Tyler still refuses to open the cap.

I nudge Blaze's boot with mine and nod at the bottle in Tyler's hand. He looks for a second before his eyes widen in understanding and he lunges for the bottle while I block Tyler's nose.

Blaze tips the bottle Tyler's his mouth while I make him swallow but I notice Blaze uses less than half the bottle.

"Scale of one to dragons, how tipsy are you?" Blaze asks.

"Is butterflies... a nom... num... bear?" he asks.

"Sure buddy, that's pretty much right," I grin at Blaze behind Tyler's back.

"Right, so now we're going to have fun, okay?" Blaze asks as he props Tyler against a wall.

"Sure... fun will be... fun... left?" he replies.

"Sure, now sing it after me: I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts," Blaze starts as Tyler follows a few seconds after, "there they are standing in a row, big ones small ones some as big as your head, give 'em a twist, a flick of the wrist, that's what the show man said."

Tyler's by now happily singing along in a drunken stupor as Blaze and I put our arms over his shoulders and he sways slightly, looking out at the room like it's something totally unknown to him.

"Keep going buddy," Blaze says as he sings the next verse, "now that i've got a lovely bunch of coconuts, everybody knows they'll make me rich, there stands me wife, the idle of me life, singing a rolly bowly ball a penny a pitch, singing a rolly bowly ball a penny a pitch, rolly bowly ball, a rolly bowly ball, singing rolly bowly ball a penny a pinch aaaaaaaaaaaand CHORUS!"

We reach the end of the song before Tyler passes out on the floor.

"Nice way to finish off training," I say as we tuck him in at the shelter station.

Blaze just grins as we high five.

**Muhahahah, what is Scarlett's plan? Find out... later.**

**Monty Python owns the Coconuts song.  
><strong>


	21. Target

**Everyone does their training session from their own POV (short ones, I don't want it to take forever) and the scores are at the end of the POV if you don't want to read them all.**

**I realised they're in the wrong order... after I'd written it. And by then I'd have to change what people said and stuff like that.**

**Sorry it took a while to update, I was helping a friend deal with some personal problems which led to some of my own and yeah... sorry it's taken a while.**

**This was going to be all 24 tributes in one chapter but I have a lot of work and other stuff to deal with so I don't want to drag it out too long. I'm up to Ahab in the second half but I decided to split it so I get an update on here.  
><strong>

**Aglaeca:**

I'm attempting to stay calm before I enter the room. I want to seem calm and collected unlike the array of panicky tributes surrounding me in the room, all of us waiting for our chance to prove ourselves.

When the door slides open, I sprint to the knife station, give Mother something to be proud of. I imagine every bullseye to be the head of that git Felix from District 4.

Bullseyes every time.

Next up is the sword fighting station, my favourite even if Mother never lets me train at it back in District 1. Slashing through the dummies like the flimsy plastic they are is intensely satisfying, especially knowing that soon that dummy could be Felix Haas of District 4.

That. Dickhead. Won't. Stand. A. Chance.

The dummy shatters into plastic shards across the floor as I bow and leave the room with a huge grin.

**TRAINING SCORE: 9**

**Hail:**

My heart is thumping as Aglaeca vanishes into her Gamemaker Session. I must prove that I'm better than my brother; I have to show them that I can win these Games and that I _will_ win. No one's going to hold me back, not even myself.

It seems like the time has passed too quickly as the door opens for me to face my fate with the Gamemakers. I try and keep my breathing steady and my mind focussed. It's just another training session. Just another training session.

I reach the rack of knives and swords across one of the walls and draw as many as possible, trying to appear impassive. When I've got them all I begin to throw around the room at every target I can see, even the swords find homes in the targets around the room. I can feel my arms moving faster and faster towards a natural rhythm until I run out of things to throw.

I pull out two of the swords and hack up all the dummies I can reach with both arms before bowing and leaving the room.

If only you could see me now, brother.

**TRAINING SCORE: 10**

**Fleur:**

Gamemakers Session, yay I get to play with all the hammers now and no one can tell me that I'm not allowed to. When the door opens I frown. There's no one in here to hit. There're lots of hammers but no people to use them on.

I decide I'll have to use the dummies or I'll never be get to play as I start to hit them, cracking their imaginary bones. First the shoulders, then the knees, then wherever I want.

I've managed to pulverise them all and I'm about to start on the walls when the bell sounds and I have to go out of the room again.

Aw… that was fun even if there weren't any hearts… why aren't I allowed to have any fun yet?

**TRAINING SCORE: 9**

**Calvin:**

I hope Fleur did well; I need her with me in the Careers. Getting hearts is no fun alone and none of the other Careers want to play with me.

The Gamemakers are watching on, looking excited. It looks like Fleur made them happy, that's good.

What should I do… maybe the dummies have hearts that I could look at? The knives are no fun to look for hearts with, they cut too easily and I want perfect hearts.

My fingernails slice through the plastic 'skin' like the skin on that girl from up the road. When they've sliced the whole way down, my fingers have purchase to tear the skin off, tear the lot of it from the body of the dummy revealing a stuffing interior. That's so boring…

I can shove my entire arm into the dummy and out the other side without any entrails. I wanted to see some entrails.

Even all the other dummies have nothing but stuffing in them, even when I tear open their plastic skulls from their 'eye sockets.'

I can't wait to get to see real hearts.

**TRAINING SCORE: 10**

**Flo:**

My Gamemakers Session starts 2 minutes late. I smash on the door but they don't let me in until two minutes after 8. Why did they make everything wrong, the Games, the time and the organisation? My escort understands but she told me to try and think about something else. I can't! They're not running on time, everything is two minutes off.

When they let me in, the room is in a slightly different order and the dummies are different ones to the ones from the other days of training. The blow darts are ten centimetres to the left of where they were yesterday and they've put new darts in the box.

One of the darts gets jammed as I shoot two of them into targets but they're 3 millimetres from the centre of the bullseye. Everything's going wrong here too; everything's going to go wrong in the Games.

No, I want to be on time, I don't want to be late and I don't want everything to go wrong in the Games.

I move the dart box back to where it started and fix the weapons but I can see the Gamemakers giving me sympathetic glances but shaking their heads. Why is everything wrong?

**TRAINING SCORE: 4**

**Lucas:**

Flo is running around like a chicken with her head cut off outside the door but I'm trying to ignore her. Could this session be the difference between life and death? Why would the Capitol do something like this? I thought them taking kids away for TV was bad but why are they killing people?

They might kill Blaze or-or Apollo! I don't want them to die, I want to go back to my friends at home with my friends here and I don't want anyone to die.

I'm not going to die though. I can fight, I can use my brain and I can be as strong as anyone else but I don't want Blaze and Apollo to die…

The Gamemakers are looking at me slightly sadly. They shouldn't, I'm not a little kid. I can do anything any of the other kids can and better than they can too.

I pulp some of the berries from the edible berries station and eat them. They don't taste half bad and I've got a good memory for which ones I can eat and which I can't. The poisonous ones get pulped in a different pile and wiped over the blade of a knife. The blade is black steel so the difference in colour is undetectable as I tie it to a branch on the tree climbing tree so that when a dummy is planted on it, the blade swings in and slices it, releasing the poison whether the hit is good or not.

That was definitely as good as the older kids; I bet none of them even remember the poisons let alone know how to use them properly.

I can beat them, I know I can. If the Gamemaker's don't believe me, they'll just have to watch me in the Games. I'll be tougher than any of the others, even Blaze and Wes.

**TRAINING SCORE: 5**

**Summer:**

A lot of the other tributes are talking, trying to hide the nerves and relax themselves.

Meanwhile I'm meditating like Logan taught me.

Clearing your mind to relax before is a technique he had mastered and he would always do it before he went for a swim. Apparently it helped him get a clear head and let him 'achieve his best.'

It might be a lot easier if it weren't for the prick beside me, flexing his muscles and grinning.

He's been in lock up for 3 days and yet he still acts like he's the king of the hill and that we're all below his mightiness.

"Oh yeah, I was winning that fight, they just pulled me off because they knew I could've taken him down," Felix says loudly, making sure everyone hears him as he tries to chat up the District 7 girl.

I'm about an inch away from making his enormous nose a little better acquainted with his face when the speakers buzz, "Ciel, Summer," and I realise what a hash I've made of meditating. Hopefully imagining I'm shredding Felix's face off will help me just as much.

The dummies certainly help with this image and each time I spear one of them through the chest or the head I get a surge of fierce satisfaction; soon that dummy could be a larger one with about the same amount of brain and a huge beak.

**TRAINING SCORE: 8**

**Felix:**

I can see all the tributes being nervous around the room; they should be. The King will show them all how it's done. I doubt the Gamemakers will even remember them after seeing me; probably just think that they're the after-show comedy.

The District 7 girl's not talking to me; but I'm sure that's a hint of a smile I see there. She's probably just waiting for me to get my twelve in flashing lights so she can start the fan club after a resounding success. I could use a few groupies; they just don't make good District 2 meat shields like they used to. Stupid twelve year olds this year. I'll take special glee in proving to them who's boss.

It takes forever for my name to be called; probably just making sure they've gotten through enough tributes so that my brilliance will be crystal clear.

I nod to the Gamemakers when I walk in, not rushing to the station I'm aiming for; why get all hot and bothered when I know I'm gonna blow everyone else out of the water? Might as well save my energy for the display of the century.

My fist forms around the cool plastic handle of a flail, hooked up with some other miscellaneous maces and staffs near the swords. This will be easy as pie; I could break a dummy's arm with my eyes closed.

Most of the tributes have to move the dummies to get them all with a sword or another weapon. Why bother? If you're too crap to smack the dummies from where they are; you're too crap to win the Hunger Games.

I whip the flail around; snapping limbs with the chain before pulverising the chest with blows from the spiked ball dangling from its tip. Crack, smack, repeat. Crack, smack, repeat.

That District 9 boy should start crying for his Mama now; he's _dead_.

**TRAINING SCORE: 9**

**Joey:**

My eyes dart toward Hail as his name is called; even if he's a Career I still hope he does well...

Wolfgang is sitting beside me and I can see the sweat creeping down the side of his face... I don't see why he's so nervous... he uses a sword like one of the knights from my drawing journal back home. No way could he stuff up.

"I think you need a nickname," I try to distract him, "Wolfgang's a mouthful..."

"What's wrong with Gang? That's what my friends all me and I think that just maybe you might fall into that category," he gives a lopsided grin as he flicks some hair out of my face.

"Everyone calls you that... that's so... unoriginal. I think... Fang," I decide. I like Fang; it sounds like a warrior which I know he his.

"Cool. Fang. I like it."

My name gets called and I turn to Fang, "You'll be alright without me?"

"I've been alright the rest of my life; I can survive a couple more minutes," he says, pushing me towards the door.

I can feel my cheeks reddening as I approach the camouflage station, coating myself into the shadows of the dummies and the targets of the knife station... A dark, subtly glistening grey that mixes the shadows and the metal...

I creep over to the knife station... they can still see me but I think some more drunken ones have lost track...

The knife rack is easy to take some from before ducking behind a target... they all watch but I move towards the next dummy and they continue to look in the shadows as I skulk across to the next dummy when I start throwing; using the knives as a distraction for moving.

I just hope I did well... for Freya and Fang...

**TRAINING SCORE: 8  
><strong>

**Apollo:**

I watch Joey and her ally and then turn to look at Wes and Blaze. I wouldn't regret it if I went with either of them if it weren't for the fact that it meant leaving the other one... I don't want to have to choose between them...

When Joey gets called and the male from District 6 wishes her good luck, I realise I haven't but I can't go and say it to her because the door closes behind her, leaving me with Blaze and Wes. I feel really bad that I didn't wish her good luck because I was thinking about training with Lucas again... Still I can ask her how it went afterwards but I should have said it beforehand.

It isn't long before my name's called and I'm nervous about what I can do in front of the Gamemakers but I know that I have to do well for Lucas, Blaze and Wes; I can't let them down. I'm not big and strong like them, I just want to be able to help them out and I don't want to hurt anyone in the Games. I don't want to use any of the big swords or spears like the Careers but I can't just do nothing, it wouldn't be fair to Lucas, Blaze and Wes...

It's when I see the light board in the corner that I get my idea; maybe I can't be big and strong like Wes and Blaze but I can still use my brain. I used to help out with the electrics in some of the offices and Lucas showed me how to short out wires earlier in training when he was bored.

I pick up the most basic dagger I can find and pull off the cover on the light switches, leaving the wires attached. The aim is to short the system without destroying it and doing it quickly; I want to show the Gamemakers that I can do well in the Games with my brain so that I can get sponsors for my friends.

All I have to do is overload the circuit. Snapping several of the power inlet wires (which are marked by red tips) and grabbing them, thanking my rubber boots, and holding them apart is essential, cutting the power to a few of them would lose the benefit gained by all of them.

As I touch them all together on one of the light mechanism wires, a surge runs down the thin wire and the room turns pitch black. A backup safety generator starts almost immediately but I can see the Gamemakers appraising me.

I just hope I've done well for Wes, Lucas and Blaze...

**TRAINING SCORE: 5**

**Taryn:**

I can see Wolfgang playing his lover boy act in the middle of the room. I try to avoid being jealous of him and his little girlfriend but I don't want to be alone in the arena. If anything I just want to be with Hale back home but since I can't have that I'll have to settle for being jealous of all the alliances in the room. I don't think I could stand being with the District 11 lovebirds, no hope with the Careers and I really don't want to make a list. Still, I'd rather eat my toenails than beg Wolfgang to be in his alliance.

My head darts towards the speaker as my name is called. I guess it's my turn to try and prove to the Gamemakers that I'm not going down easily; with or without any allies.

I head straight towards the knives; I know how to use them anyway and picking up another weapon would be a huge amount of effort when I've got a perfectly good weapon that I could use in my sleep.

I know the others will just be tossing them but I had an idea. I watched Wolfgang dance through an obstacle course as a joke and it gave me the idea. Dancing was something I was good at after years of running around with Hale but it never appealed to me; I wasn't a skirt and dress person even when I wasn't trotting around on my toes.

Dancing with knives though, that sounded like _fun_.

**TRAINING SCORE: 7**

**Wolfgang:**

Fang huh?

Never would've come up with it myself but I guess that's what you get for hanging around with the dreamy one. My sense of imagination extends into the realm of irony like it never plans on coming back but in the creativity department, let's just say there's a lot of empty floor space.

I can tell Taryn's watching me intermittently. It's not hard to see she's jealous; her face couldn't be more of an open book without another dimension to open into. Maybe I'll ask her for an alliance, after the training scores, because now that I've got Joey I can't really just accept her without it being a logical choice. Me and logic get along like putting ice over an open flame but I volunteered to prove that I can survive in the real world.

Without anyone to talk t, it takes forever before my name's called.

I'm not exactly being spectacularly original, but I head to the sword station and heft a broadsword without hesitation; I want to make Father proud.

The dummies crack and splinter under each of my blows and it's comforting to feel them crumble under the sword strokes; it means I'll be able to prove myself to my father and... well... it proves I can protect Joey.

**TRAINING SCORE: 6  
><strong>

**OI! OVER HERE! IMPORTANT A/N. So laralulu, Tare-Bear, Maddie Rose, The Girl Who Was On Fire and myself are doing a collab and we need YOU to submit some non-Sue/Stu tributes. **

**ht tp:/ www . fanfiction . net/s/7776336/1/Doomsday_The_Final_Solution**

**I don't care if you use google to make the most stereotypical small town Yank imaginable, SUBMIT OR I KILL BABY PEETA. WITH FROSTING.  
><strong>


	22. Making the Most

**Sorry this took so long. I was snowed under with school work. Geniuses that they are, the teachers all pile on their biggest assignments in first term so we can work on the others in the second and third terms while in reality it just makes first term painful and the other easy.**

**Other than that, I had a bad day which turned into a bad week then month then a bad term because of something at school. It wasn't directly related to me but I got involved somewhere along the line and shit happened. It basically meant I had to rush my assignments, pull all-nighters and have an awful first term as a senior. The holidays ended up being sleeping and relaxing time to try and get ready for term two. Now back to the good old art of procrastinating to finish this chapter.**

**Kaya:**

I swear Kristy gets even more talkative when she's nervous. She's bouncing like a jackrabbit and talking at about Mach 5. I wouldn't be able to understand her even if I wasn't trying to prepare for the task ahead but I don't get the idea I'm expected to answer anyway.

My brain is running through the motions of a slicing pattern with an axe when Sean somehow slides into my view. I swear I wasn't even looking near him and yet somehow I'm watching him again. Our ride down in the elevator was silent; I didn't even wish him good luck and now I'm regretting it. Even if I don't want to be allies, we still should have been friends. He has a good pair of allies; they're both supportive to him and don't waste words, a good match for Sean, but still...

I can't even bring myself to be angry at him for distracting me when my name is called. I know what I'm doing; grab an axe and hit things. It's what I've been doing all my life, I'm practiced; they're going to be in awe.

As I heft the axe, gripping it in my right hand, I remember Kristy saying to be a little original and instead of facing the prepared dummies, I whirl towards the camouflage station.

The trees collapse under a series of well aimed blows; I think the adrenaline is helping because I'm pretty sure I've never felled even a small tree at that kind of pace in District 7. When the tree's gone I turn towards a table at the knot tying station; firewood.

Finally I crush two dummies in a sweep into the wall and bow before being dismissed.

**TRAINING SCORE: 7**

**Sean:**

I can tell Scarlett and Matt are nervous for their sessions; Matt's twitching and clearly looks stricken while Scarlett is trying to be silent and stoic. I wish I could do more to help them than encouragement but it's the private sessions. I know Scarlett and Matt will do great; I just wish I could help them more instead of having to let them go in alone.

When Kaya goes in for her session, I want to wish her luck but I know that she said she doesn't want to be friends in the Games; I just wish there was some way to change that.

It's my turn only a short while after and I wish Scarlett and Matt good luck before running into the room. It feels strangely empty without all of the other people in it. Even though it sounds odd; I like it better with a big audience than with just a few people scrutinising my every move as I head over to the bow and arrows.

The targets go fairly well, all of my shots are within a few centimetres of the bullseye, but it feels like it isn't enough for the Gamemakers. Hunting in District 7 is simple; any animals that come near enough to the loggers are predatory, they don't run off suddenly and it isn't too difficult to protect a large, rowdy group of lumberjacks from forest creatures.

Even so, I don't want to practice like I'm killing people; I don't want to kill _anyone_.

So after showing them the archery, I head towards the knot tying station and hope it will make Matt get a better score when he comes later.

If anyone's going to win, I hope it's Kaya... and if not then Matt or Scarlett.

**TRAINING SCORE: 6**

**Piper:**

I can see tons of people around the room getting all worked up over the Private Sessions. Frankly I'm not surprised; none of them are going to stand between me and my little brothers unless they have a death wish, one which I'll be more than happy to grant.

When I realised that the District 7 archer was going to go before me, I was worried for a moment that I might have to have a change in plans. Then I realised that being worried was stupid and asked him if he could help me out at the archery station while the District 10 pair worked together. He was a sucker; more than happy to oblige and show me that he was average at best. He hit near the centre of the target but near the centre from a standing start wasn't enough to sway me in the slightest.

So when I enter the private session, I head towards the archery section without a second thought. Shooting a few arrows is easy enough but boring; I need to prove that I'm the best, to make sure no one in the Capitol thinks I'm just a stupid lone wolf. I don't want to be finding all my own food around the place and if there's one thing that'll earn me some 'don't kill me' favours in the arena, it's a good sponsor gift. Besides, why even bother letting the tributes think I'm weak since they're all going to die anyway?

In District 8 'arrowheads' isn't exactly something you just go and order over the counter so I tried strapping a knife to the arrow in its place. It took a while to master and was totally different to a normal bow but it left a huge gouge in the wall once mastered.

I thought I'd never have a reason to use it but well, soon I will.

**TRAINING SCORE: 8**

**Blaze:**

I hope the little guys go well; sure they annoy the frick out of me but maybe looking after them in the Games will make up for failing to look after my little brother all those years ago. I didn't consider the idea of having a big alliance (least of all one with all guys) before I got into training but now I'm here; I regret nothing. I think that maybe if I try to protect them I might finally forgive myself; and that's always a good start.

Despite all that protecting I've been thinking about, Lucas and Apollo still went in around the Careers for their sessions and I had to resist the urge to beat the crap out of the Careers for being around the little guys (like that would turn out well). Apparently my paternal side is similar to the maternal side of a mama grizzly bear- as you do as a teenage male in the Hunger Games.

When the Piper- aka the "lone wolf" potential-psycho-bitch- smiles sweetly at the room before she lunges towards the archery section even as the door closes, I remember that I'm next. I have to do something that makes the Gamemakers think I'm not going to end up on the pointy end of an unfortunately rather regularly pointy stabbing object during the Games.

As I stride in, I toss a cocky grin in the direction of the Gamemakers. Seeming cool and under control straight through will help my angle for the interviews and the Games because, in charge or not, the Gamemakers are just another few members of the audience. I don't care what my mentor says; my angle will be how I normally I am because how I normally am is epic.

First I head to the sword fighting section to show that I at least have a vague idea what I'm doing with my own regularly-pointy-stabbing-object before changing to a different tack and showing off hand-to hand combat. You don't get to be king of the popularity contest without being to punch the crap out of any challengers.

All in all; not bad.

**TRAINING SCORE: 7**

**Kristy:**

Pandemonium.

That's what I've decided to name the trap I've designed for the Gamemakers. It's not too original but it's a pretty good description. Kaya probably thought I was crazy when I went and collected everything for the trap in the last few hours of training. She probably still will afterwards but I won't care, I just want to test out the trapping equipment in the training centre and see if it's better than the glass plate rigging I made at home in District 9. You never know when you might get to fling rocks at humanoid figures in the presence of Peacekeepers again.

When my name gest called I dash straight to the first set of rope, leaping around the climbing apparatus to tie it into position.

Next are the dummies, placed near the various sensor points so that when I trip them from a safe distance it'll show the Gamemakers what would happen to an unsuspecting tribute.

Finally the pressure points themselves. Covered in leaves, dirt, in the shadow of the climbing apparatus, in the roots of the cmaouflage tree and up in the branches, they're everywhere I could feasibly hide them in the time limit. Which is a lot of places; I've had three days to plan for some carnage.

I snatch up a handful of knives to set off one pressure point, it sends several axes to crack through the dummy from a drop off the climbing frame. The plunge wrecks the next pressure point, hanging a dummy easily as though it was just another wild turkey in District 9. Setting off the next pressure point with knives sets off the grand finale.

A group of dummies stand near each other like a pack of tributes on the prowl, the pressure point in front of the first dummy causes the whole group to be annihilated in various ways. A wooden spike plunges through the head of the leader, a boulder (camouflaged as a bush as part of my preparation) is launched by a bent tree branch also from the camouflage station. The last two dummies find themselves in a net with their limbs at funny angles against their body.

That was fun; shame I only get to make one trap... Maybe I could make one in the Games that also involves being able to sneak up behind people and zap them. It'd be fun.

**TRAINING SCORE: 9**

**Ahab:**

All the training I put into preparing to go into the Games- whether or not I aimed for this year or next- shattered by the moron from District 4 with his big mouth and his bigger head.

I even have to suffer the injustice of waiting outside until the District 4 boy goes into his private session. Like that bastard's any better than me because he's from a poncy little training school.

Sure I spent every minute locked in my room training my body, exercising until I puked or slept, but there's a huge difference between that and getting your hands on a weapon and practicing taking aim at the weak bodies around you. Learning their weaknesses to snap their necks or stab them through the heart before they get to you first.

I don't even look at the bastards in the Gamemaker's stand as I head straight for the spears. I stand next to the table to throw, not bothering to move as I throw each spear into the targets without having to shift as I pick another spear to throw. Finally, I'm left with only the spear I practiced with before the District 4 moron stopped my training. While the balance is different to the ones at home, the weapon feels better in my hand, perfectly balanced to plunge through the heart of the sword training dummy like I would've done with a moss-coated log at home. I'd be lying if I said the spear and the synthetic dummy doesn't feel better, feel more like I'm really training for vengeance, but I'd be lying more if I said I didn't want to destroy everything around me for the price it cost my family without affecting their petty, pathetic existence.

After a few more arcs with the spear remaining in my grasp, I turn to leave. I can't stop myself from glaring at the people who cost me my family as I no longer need my focus on my training and obliterating the targets. The spear is still clenched in my fist as I head towards the door. The Peacekeeper looks ready to take it off me as I throw the spear into the wall behind me. To an untrained observer it looks like a casual throw that stuck in the wall but to me, I see the eyes of the Capitol scum in the paint smear I speared.

Soon I will avenge you mother, sister.

**TRAINING SCORE: 8**

**Scarlett:**

As I give Matt a quick hug goodbye, I have my plan formed in my mind. Some would say it's stupid, reckless even- but who's going to talk me out of it? It's my Games and my survival is pretty important to me funnily enough. No one else gets to tell me what to do. Then again that goes for everything but still- especially important in life or death situations. (Or when it involves authority figures but that's a completely different matter)

My genius plan is to be awful.

As in completely and totally terrible.

So bad that they'd probably consider tossing a turkey into the arena instead of me and seeing who would win more of the fights. In reality I'll have a few knives up my sleeves but the point is playing pathetic.

When I walk in, I shoot a 'terrified' glance at the Gamemakers, hating every second of weakness I have to fake. But I'm not changing my plan and taking the mentor's advice to show our strengths; my plan is good and I'm not changing it because of the morons with the poodle fur on their heads.

I head over to the poisonous berries station, sorting weakly through the berries, messing up most of the hardest similar poisons and edibles but making sure that I get the easy ones right. There is such a thing as dignity and I think being completely pathetic at the poisonous berries is enough to get a terrible score even if I don't mix a blackberry up with some strange bulbous fungi.

I think my dignity deserves a gift before the _brilliant_ score it's going to get tonight.

**TRAINING SCORE: 3**

**Matt:**

There's a difference between Sean's archery and mine.

I don't know whether or not to exploit it; to make myself seem better and lower his score just because I was lucky a long time ago. Despite the consoling comments and the conversation within our alliance, only a tiny fraction of my brain focuses on that while the rest debates my moral conflict.

In the end I'm still not sure; there's pros and cons to either side and it seems too even to choose one. Fire well; Sean gets a lower mark while I get a higher grade which could mean more sponsor gifts in the arena. Fire amateurishly; Sean seems better while I get a lower score in comparison to his and he gets more acclaim and satisfaction with himself.

As my name is called, my mind settles on the second option. Protecting and being friends with my allies is important- I shouldn't burn bridges for my own satisfaction for only a marginal possibility of improving the likelihood of our survival in the arena.

Something in my head starts changing that decision as I collect the bow and test the draw before collecting an arrow.

The idea isn't fully formed in my head until I draw and aim at the target. My mind is intending to aim a little to the upper right while my arms don't move. There's some part of me that feels there's something gone wrong. I finally realise as my eyes focus on the heart of the target. The marking in it is a large gouge, significantly bigger than a normal arrowhead. Lower and on the left is a small arrow mark. My eyes pick out a few more markings, becoming increasingly more difficult to find until the fifth is non-existent.

I can practically see Sean losing his nerve thinking about killing, almost feel his arms shake as he puts the bow aside and moves to a safe station. In that second I know that option 2 is the only choice for the alliance.

The first shot arcs into the heart of the target, slamming home within the larger groove. Whoever fired previously clearly isn't particularly strong as, despite the unusual dent, my arrow is embedded noticeably deeper than the groove. If the knife station wasn't about 50 metres away with it's own targets, I'd say the grooves seem like knife divots.

I jog several metres back with the bow and another three arrows, flipping the arrow rack on its side to form a small wall between myself and the target, despite being a few inches to the right.

My heart thumps painfully in my chest as I drop to the ground where I am, nocked bow in hand.

I count down from three as I prepare to launch forwards.

On one I push up as hard and fast as I can, leaping up and firing at the first target before running two steps and hiding behind the makeshift wall. I only give myself a second before darting out the opposite side to fire at the second target.

I spin on the spot, putting my weight on my knee instead of my thoroughly gripped shoe, standing with the other leg as I do so and nocking the arrow with my hands as I fire at a spear target on the opposite side of the room the second I'm out of my crouch.

In the end, the difference between Sean and I is that, no matter how many foxes were in District 10, Csirke and I both knew that in the end, it was moving, living, breathing humans that we were training to kill.

**TRAINING SCORE: 9**

**Millie:**

Denver and I sit alone, apart from the other pacing tributes playing a game made up by kids in District 11 to play whenever we get a break from work. It's the easiest option because you don't need anything except your hands to play meaning you can start and stop at a moment's notice when you need to get back to work. Basically you have a finger out on each hand to start and every time you tap the other person's hand, they have to put up the number of fingers that were on the hand you just tapped them with. If you get 5 fingers up on one hand that hand is out but if you have several fingers up on one hand and none on the other, you can 'split' the number of fingers between both hands.

The other tributes are panicking like crazy, but me and Denver are in the corner, relaxing until the session because nothing we do now will change our results and there's no point in stressing over the Games when we could at least be having fun.

Denver's the best person to be doing it with too; although I miss Greg and Sash being the third to their couple isn't the same as being Denver's best friend. He cheats occasionally when it's getting boring and we joke about whether or not he took off a few fingers. Other times he'll lose on purpose if I'm having a bad round and then refuse to let me throw the game myself no matter how hard I try to play terribly.

It's actually a bit of a letdown when my name gets called to go into the session itself. The Gamemakers glance at me before continuing their conversations, clearly bored by the procession of tributes. I have to show them that they shouldn't ignore me but I don't want them to get annoyed if I seem pushy...

I see the eyes turn towards me as I select a few knives from the rack and feel a little more confident. At least I'm certain they're watching as I climb up through the climbing apparatus until I'm in the rafters, virtually invisible but the harder the Gamemakers have to look for me, the more attention they're paying to what I'm doing.

Once I find a good niche in the rafters, I start throwing the knives, occasionally scuttling through the rafters towards fresh targets until I'm out of knives. I haven't done too badly really, all the knives are lodged in their targets which is pretty good considering how high up I was.

Now all I have to do until tomorrow afternoon is eat, sleep and talk or play games with Denver.

Not at all bad really.

**TRAINING SCORE: 6**

**Denver:**

Once Millie's gone I can't help but spend my remaining minutes fidgeting nervously. It's easy to hang out with her, it seems like she doesn't even remember I'm deaf half the time, but when I'm basically alone I get reminded by little things like the District 12 boy fiddling with his belt and the girl running her fingers through her hair in an obviously subconscious twitch.

The moment's gone and once again I only feel determination to prove that being deaf is no obstacle. How is it going to affect me chucking around some spears for the Gamemakers? If anything it's a bonus because if their voices are half as obnoxious as their looks I'm not exactly the one losing out on anything. No, I'm not going to have any problems with my private session. I have Millie for the Games- I don't need to worry about everyone else. All I need to do is prove myself in the private sessions and I'll be set for the Games and hopefully winning sponsors for our alliance.

When I walk into the training room I'm confident that I'll be able to prove myself. I'm bigger than pretty much everyone and I'm used to the types of hideous conditions the Games usually bring about.

I head straight for the spears, they're the perfect weapon for a big guy with no training; point, stab, cheer as your guts aren't the ones dangling around on the ground. Problem is stabbing some dummies for 15 minutes is interesting enough for me but I figure that the Captiol Gamemakers who looked bored by the ten seconds it took to walk across the room towards the spears might find it a little dull. I can't imagine having so much at my fingertips that a 15 minute demonstration could be considered boring but I guess it's just something about the Capitol.

Although their boredom means I get one last chance to clamber over the climbing frame- one which can hold my weight unlike any tree I've climbed since I was about 10- before I go to my hopefully-not-impending-doom.

Once I clamber over the frame, hanging upside down from the very top before leaping across the bars to land near the bottom on the opposite edge. It's a shame it's just me but it's still nice to have another chance to act like a kid. I can see the Gamemakers look mildly impressed but some of them just glare at their watches as though a few seconds watching me past 15 minutes will kill them.

As I'm preparing to leap off from my perch two metres above the ground, I throw the spear as hard as I can towards the wall with the targets on it, pleased when it hits the stomach of the dummy as I walk out the door before dashing to the elevator to catch up with Mil.

**TRAINING SCORE: 8**

**Ivy:**

I've been hoping to go through the training as thoroughly unmemorable. I know I want to win but I can't put a target on my back from the start of training by showing off my skills or making someone notice me enough to decide they might want to kill me. It's also partly... well maybe a little more than partly because I can't bear the thought of having someone with me in the Games- either because they'll hold me back or because I don't want to watch them die.

It was pretty lonely but my parents haven't exactly convinced me that being lonely is a bad thing. The sound of my own thoughts is like an old friend- one which won't try to kill me in the Hunger Games.

Basically I went to the smallest, loneliest stations available and tried to memorise every skill I could possibly need in the Games. Should I ever need to tie someone to death, purify the water from their blood or shelter them so the sun sets fire to them I'm all set. It'd be the weirdest victory in the history of the Games if I managed any of those things but I'd take it. I have to win the Games. Failure isn't imaginable- even if I have to purify them to death or stab them with a rusty nail I'll do whatever it takes.

Wes is looking increasingly nervous but I try to avoid acknowledging his presence. I'm not willing to fall for someone else's weak act only to be stabbed in the back the instant I step off my plate at the Cornucopia.

When I walk into the training room I head for the only violently useful things I learnt. Poisons.

Mixing handfuls of edible berries with the most similar looking deadly berries, smearing them with juice as camouflage, crushing up handfuls of blood poisons and smearing them on knife blades, dripping nightlock juice into water so that it's invisible against the darker container but still 100% deadly.

I know I don't want to have to kill to succeed but at the very least I'll be giving them the least painful death I can without fail. Even if I never use any weapons it doesn't take a genius to work out that I wouldn't even need to stab- point and poke is all it would take to kill all 23 people without having to freshen up my knife with more poison.

**TRAINING SCORE: 5**

**Wes:**

Being the last to go on is a killer.

My hands can barely stop shaking as I watch Ivy stalk into the private session, not even acknowledging my gaze. Blaze has the ability to radiate confidence like smoke from a fire in the coal mines while I'm just your average guy- the idea that 15 minutes could decide whether or not I get enough sponsor gifts to survive is freaky.

I don't even know what I'm going to do. The District one guy could probably convince a sword to kill a dummy without touching either but that was my best weapon. Even the random guy from District 6 was good at it. Somehow I don't think a display of my extreme sewing skills will earn me too many points and I don't think the stand-up comedy routine's quite ready to be performed yet. The jokes about the Capitol man who gets strangled by his eyebrow extensions might not go down to well with the target audience.

In the end I decide that I might as well go do whatever for the hell of it since they're too busy drinking to notice my entrance, let alone whatever else I do. They're so drunk they might even laugh at my Capitol joke but from the way one of the Gamemakers' eyebrows are resting behind his shoulders to allow him to drink the punch straight from the bowl, I don't think accidentally prophesizing the unusual death of one of the Gamemakers would be a great idea.

I grab a handful of berries, toss away the poisonous ones, and chow down while sitting on a dummy that I sliced off at the knees to use as a chair.

The Gamemakers seem to find this mildly amusing so I build a chair out of dummies cut down to size and snack on some more berries while the Gamemakers chuckle.

Maybe I won't get a score of 3,000,000 but frankly I'd rather make them laugh than afraid that I'll cut them up in their sleep.

**TRAINING SCORE: 6**

**Wow these POVs have grown enormous since I started at Hail and Aglaeca's... To make up for it I'll do the opposite with the interviews, longer for the first half, shorter for the second because while it was unintentional it isn't really fair to character building.**


End file.
